A Kingdom Fallen: The Triadine Saga, #3

By Timothy Bond

In this continuation of the epic fantasy series–The Triadine Saga–Peter is desperately in love with the beautiful Lady Olivia. After rescuing her from the Goblins and the Brotherhood of Khall, he is hopeful that she will return his love, though she believes she owes her salvation to another man.

Alexandra has been captured by the Gaerwitch, a Wiccan Sorceress who can be either friend or foe. She  was instrumental in assisting Princess Rozlynn in Prophecy’s Queen,  which ultimately led to the birth of the twins and the death of Alexandra’s mother.

The separate armies of the Pulat, Al-Ashal and the Dark Wizard grow stronger every day, as the world grows closer to another Great War pitting good versus evil for domination of the world.

The great Dragon Lord Barak wields expanding power over thousands of disciples who wish only to return to a time when the Dragon Lords ruled the world.

As the armies of men come together in the inevitable battle for power between the Kingdom of  Aren and the Free Cities, who will prevail? 

Will the Children of The Prophecy get the chance to fulfill their destiny, or will evil destroy light and plunge the world into a thousand years of darkness?

• Language: English
• Publisher: myOstrich Press
• Release date: Dec 22, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386097198

Timothy Bond

Timothy Bond is an American currently living in Penang, Malaysia. He often travels to the Upper Aren on weekends, where he has a condominium at Eagles Reach.   When he is not writing, he can be found paddling his canoe on Lake Estonan or running the rapids of the lower Estonan River.   Timothy is planning a hike through the Sikyu and Lumin Mountains and will be out of touch from civilization for approximately eight months after the release of this, his first book.  He has often spoken of joining the order of Grenadine Monks and serving at the Abbey in Caergana, where he could live out his life in quiet scholarship - either that or be an astronaut.

Book preview

Introduction

The Triadine Saga is a work of fiction; however, it has been translated from the Elvish annals known as the Menta Renjunkai Paklanta. These chronicles were recorded over several centuries, first by the Elves of the Aren in the city of Archaille before The Breaking and then later in the hidden Elven city of Alpenvail. At the end of the Second Age, the writings were recovered from the mountain city, and they were completed in the city of Paladian on the Fireheart Sea by the Elves of the Dresda. Some of the slant is therefore toward the Elves as victims or heroes when in fact they may have played a lesser role than contained within.

Scholars also disagree with the translation of Menta Renjunkai, with opinions varying as to whether it refers to the time just before The Breaking or from a period of time even earlier in history. In this writer's opinion, it refers to both, and its original historical reference was to the time before the rise of humans, when Elves and Dwarves lived in proximity to one another, each serving a different purpose to the benefit of both.

I must apologize in advance for some of the translations in this saga, as many of the words from the original Elvish do not have equivalents in English, and approximations had to be made for the storyline to make sense. In particular distances, time and days of the week have been converted to modern units in many places in order for the reader to make sense of the story.

Your indulgence of these small adjustments is appreciated.

I hope you enjoy the story.

Timothy

Chapter 1

I 'm sorry about Finn. Peter stepped close to Beorn who was looking pensively back into the canyon where the Goblins were holed up in their caverns. He was an odd little fellow, but we would not have found Lady Olivia without him .

He saved my life, the Dwarf replied without looking at Peter. He didn't have to do that.

He was clearly your friend.

I did not know him long. He said he helped my father in a time of great need, but he refused to tell me why.

Yet he came along and helped you. Peter was still trying to figure out the little Elfling.

He led me to you—Beorn still stared up the canyon—and he was helping me to find the Elshandar. He should not have died like that—crushed to death by an Ogre.

No one should have to die like that, Peter agreed. The sword you were looking for, what did you call it? The Elfendar? A sword of your ancestors?

Elshandar, Beorn corrected. It is a sacred sword to my people—that and more.

Peter was about to ask Beorn to explain when Brandon and Olivia appeared from the trail to the campsite.

Karoel says we must leave at once. Brandon spoke first. Before first light.

He doesn't know why the Goblins didn't chase us last night, Olivia added. He's worried that they, or possibly something worse, will come after us with the dawn.

There has been no activity in the canyon since my watch started, Beorn answered flatly.

Either way, Brandon asserted, it's past time to go. We need to get Olivia back to her father.

The four companions returned to the small campsite deep in the rocks and found Karoel and Jon already loading the horses.

No breakfast, sorry, My Lady, the woodsman apologized.

We will be in Lands End by midday, Karoel, Olivia stated with just a hint of excitement in her voice. My father will put out a banquet for you.

Karoel dipped his head slightly and handed Peter the reins to his horse. Cinch your saddle, Peter. It's not on all the way.

Brandon also retrieved his mount, and before Peter realized what had happened, he had Olivia up behind him. The woodsman and Jon were both mounted. Beorn stood ready, pack on his back but afoot.

Are you not riding, Beorn? Lady Olivia asked politely.

I prefer to run, My Lady, the Dwarf answered quietly. I'm not that comfortable on a horse.

Peter climbed into the saddle and led the way down from the hidden campsite. Though the group originally led their horses up the narrow trail, riding down proved no challenge to the well-trained mounts.

The snow was falling harder now as the small group approached Lands End. Olivia was riding behind Brandon, both arms tight around his middle and wrapped in Peter's blanket from the night before.

Ring-ring, ring-ring. Ring-ring, ring-ring.

Does anyone else hear bells or is that just in my head? Jon asked.

Heard them for a while now, but they are getting louder, Peter replied. Any idea what they mean?

They usually announce a celebration; a wedding, a visit from the king, or something special in the city, Olivia answered.

Ring-ring, ring-ring. Ring-ring, ring-ring. The bells continued as the group closed in on their destination.

The gates of the outer city were standing open, with no guards on the palisades. People were streaming both in and out of the city. There was surely something out of the ordinary going on here, and everyone seemed to be talking about it.

Stay back here a minute, My Lady, Karoel instructed Olivia. Brandon pulled up his horse. Beorn stopped as well, while Peter and Jon accompanied Karoel to the gate.

What's all the fuss about? Peter asked a teamster, as he held off his wagon to allow a group on foot to enter the city.

You don't hear them bells, boy? You deef or sump'n?

I hear them, sir, Peter answered politely though maybe a little more curt than he wished. I just don't know what they mean.

Them's the death-bells. The old man has finally died.

The old man? Karoel's horse was nose to nose with Peter's now.

Why, the old duke o'course. You folks ain't too smart now, is you. Who else would get them death-bells rang for so long?

Duke Haren was very ill. Peter turned to the woodsman and by way of explanation added, I met him here on Messenger Corps business not long ago.

Karoel's face held no emotion. The woodsman had served the duke earlier in life. He was a good man was all he said.

Maybe. The teamster spat out a mouthful of tobacco juice. He ain't been much lately to no one 'round here—his daughter neither. She be off to marry the king, they say, an' weren't here to be with him at the end. It seems them priests are running things now anyways. Makes no matter to me, so long as I gets paid to drive these mules.

Before they could ask him any more questions, he cracked the reins, and the wagon lunged toward the gate.

Olivia, Peter said, turning back to the daughter of the duke.

Wait, Karoel instructed. We need to understand what's going on.

Her father is dead. Peter looked incredulous. She needs to know.

Don't be rash, Peter. We will tell her, but what that teamster said about the priests bothers me. If the red-robed priests are here in force and in some position of authority, that cannot be good. With the death of the duke, Minister Carson will be holding the city together while Olivia is recalled from Solenta. She is the duchess now, after all.

Jon had been silent through all of this, quietly sitting his horse. I'll go into the city and check in at the garrison, he offered. I can find out exactly who is in command. I'm still assigned to the Fox Hunters. We have been resupplied from here in the past. The garrison commander will know what's going on.

Good idea, Karoel agreed. Take Peter with you. Now that he's been cleared of the charges on Peerson's death, he can help you dig up information.

I can stay with the Lady— Peter started.

No, Brandon will stay, the woodsman insisted. You two need to check in with the garrison commander. Jon, you can tell him you are here to resupply. Peter, you will need to get a new uniform. You can't very well be a Messenger Corps corporal in those fisherman's clothes. I have an idea, but it will require both of you in uniform.

Piers, Jon offered.

What? Karoel looked puzzled.

Piers Lakeman, the big man replied. It's not Peter. It's Piers.

Of course. I'll get rooms at an inn called the Ocean View, up against the western wall of the city. It's in the outer city, just before the second gate. The innkeeper there is a friend of mine. Come when you have a better idea of what's going on here.

The boys rode on through the gate, while Karoel returned to join the rest of the group, feeling quite uneasy at what might face them in the city.

Chapter 2

As morning slowly dawned, Wizard Rendil was still deep in conversation with the changeling Ingk. Neither of them realized that their little talk had lasted through the night. Aphis was the first to notice the black of night was slowly transforming into the gray of morning .

We should probably be on our way, Wizard Rendil. The Elf interrupted the changeling as he was describing the lands of his home in the north.

We what? Rendil looked a little puzzled. Aphis had not spoken in several hours, and he was deep into matters of Wiccan magic with the changeling. Rendil had long been fascinated by the ancient forms, and Ingk was a direct creation of those forms. Ancient magic had transformed him into this mysterious creature centuries ago. The little boy before him could change into a giant moor cat at will. The wizard was dying to understand the nature of this particular branch of his art.

We have a mission, Aphis said softly. The young man, remember?

Of course, I do. Rendil took a deep draw on his pipe, though the tobacco had long gone cold.

You seek the boy-half of my friend Alex? The one named Peter? Alex thought he would be joining her in Archaille as well. Ingk addressed Aphis.

Archaille? questioned Aphis.

The ancient name of what your people now call Kalystra, from before The Breaking. Ingk, just how old are you? Never mind. Rendil dismissed his own question with a wave of his hand. What do you know of Peter? The wizard was angry with himself for not asking this earlier. Of course, Ingk would have sensed the presence of Peter in these woods, having spent so much time with his sister.

He has traveled beyond where I can go, Ingk replied sadly. Into the lands where time has no meaning and distance has no measure.

You mean the Wizard Ways? He's gone into the Wizard Ways? Rendil was puzzled.

I know not the Wizard Ways of which you speak, Rendil. Peter has gone below ground into a world where I cannot go in any form.

Must be the Ways, Rendil replied, suddenly standing.

Can we find him there? Aphis rose as well, having recently traveled with Rendil in these ancient passages.

Not likely, Rendil answered. He collected his things and only now realized it had lightly snowed in the night.

Where did you lose him, Ingk? Rendil asked. Where did he enter the ground?

It was across the river and above the great lake, in the side of a mountain.

How did he enter the Ways? Was there anyone with him? Rendil knew of no others in this land who could navigate the ancient Wizard Ways.

He had his horse, and there was another already in the mountainside when the storm came.

The mountainside? You mean through the door—a stone door.

No, there was no door, only a cave. The storm was very bad. Not a natural storm, but a storm of evil magic. The side of the mountain collapsed and buried Peter and his horse inside the cave. The one there, the one with magic like Helene, was already inside. He would not have let harm come to Alex's brother-half.

Rendil was more confused than ever. With magic like Helene, the Wiccan sorceress? There was a sorceress with him?

No, not exactly like that. The one in the ground, not like Helene exactly, but ancient too. I can't really explain.

This was across the river, above the lake, in the mountains above Lake Estonan? Where exactly? Rendil was getting frustrated with the changeling, and it showed in his voice.

Ingk stood and shrugged off the blanket that had wrapped his small body through the night. The air shimmered around him as he took the form of the giant black moor cat. His eyes shone briefly in the dim firelight before he leapt over the remaining flame and vanished from sight, even before his paws struck the ground.

Ingk, I'm sorry. Come back! The wizard was frantic to find out more about Peter.

He has already gone quite far, Wizard Rendil, Aphis informed the wizard, sensing the ancient magic. He cannot possibly hear you.

Rendil made the form of a tracking rune in the air in front of him and spoke the words of activation. The rune flared and died before his eyes. He tried a second time with the same results.

It seems the young changeling cannot be tracked with normal magic. He spoke the words aloud, but he was clearly not talking to Aphis. I cannot believe I did not ask him about Peter through the entire night!

It was still interesting hearing him talk about how he met Alexandra, healed her, and led her to my people. Aphis did not realize the wizard was not speaking to her. She would have probably been captured by those soldiers and taken away, or worse, if Ingk had not found her and cared for her.

What? Oh, yes, of course, I'm pleased as well. Rendil rolled up his blanket and prepared his pack for travel.

We will still go to this hunting lodge as planned? The lodge of Harmon Englot?

Yes, we will go see Harmon. The monks saw Peter with Harmon, and they were headed to the lodge. Something must have happened there or perhaps along the way. Harmon will know something. Come.

Without waiting to see if Aphis followed or not, Rendil started off toward the hunting lodge. Harmon was one person he thought should have been able to keep Peter safe and hidden until he could be brought to Kalystra. He would have a stern word with Harmon, for sure.

Peter is not with the friend of the wizard. Aphis was scrying Queen Lilliene through the Elf Stone. The queen was alone in the chamber she shared with King Theinial in the Elven city of Kalystra.

And where would he be? she questioned her servant.

We do not yet know, Your Majesty. It will be another day and night before we reach the hunting lodge. All we know is he went north and then entered the ground through a mountainside.

Through a mountainside? the queen asked incredulously.

That is what we learned, My Queen. Aphis was not ready to talk about the changeling. For some reason, she felt the need to keep his existence a secret, even from her queen.

When you know more, contact me at once. The queen cut off the conversation and walked quickly from her rooms. The throne room was not far, and she entered briskly, shooing away those attendants lingering around the king. When they were alone, she finally spoke.

Young Peter is not in the region, as I informed you earlier. She spoke to the king in that I told you so voice that a wife often used with her husband, even when he was a king.

I thought perhaps your ability to sense the location of the young man was simply failing you or that he had lost his pendant the way that Alexandra once lost hers. Or maybe he had figured out how to shield you, the way your niece is shielding you now. The king was not kind in the way he spoke to his wife.

I can still tell where he is when he is close, she snapped back. But he left some time ago as I said. Aphis informs me he entered the ground through a mountainside in the north, but nothing more.

Curious. Theinial was studying one of the ancient books from the Royal Elven Library. Did you know that dragon eggs can still be hatched even after being left alone for centuries?

What? Lilliene was taken off her guard. Dragon eggs?

Yes, dragon eggs. Centuries ago, one of our dragon riders discovered an egg long abandoned by its mother deep in the caverns above the Dragon’s Teeth. He successfully hatched and raised the dragon. It was bound more closely to him than any other rider. The magic of the dragon is said to have flowed in his veins and even passed to his descendants as a result.

What is that nonsense? the queen retorted.

I was reading the histories, searching for how we lost our ability to wield magic, and found this reference to one of the last of our kind to be considered a real mage. His name was Leander, and he was killed in the Great War.

I remember the stories. Lilliene was sitting cross-legged now on a pillow in front of the king, listening intently to the Elf who stole her heart so many years ago. This was the scholar she so rarely encountered anymore. There were only a few dragon riders among the elves, she went on, as the dragons sided with the Dark Wizard Khollaran. We had griffins on our side in the war but only a few dragons. All of the dragons turned on their riders and killed them during The Breaking.

All but one, Theinial corrected. Leander's great dragon, a red female named Ignis. Together they fought valiantly until the very end—when the Dragon Lord Barak dove on them out of the sun and broke her back. Both dragon and rider fell to their deaths in the Fireheart Sea. It is written here that Ignis and Barak were lovers before Barak turned the dragons to join the wizard. Dragon lovers—I never really thought of them like that before.

Lilliene was silent as Theinial turned several more pages in the ancient text. Did you know that my servant Aphis is a descendant of Leander? she offered at last.

The king did not look up from his book but answered quietly. Too bad the fable of dragon magic being infused into Leander is not true. We would benefit from having some Elven mages in the war to come.

The queen had never told her husband that Aphis had the ability to sense magic. Perhaps there was some spark of the ancient magic in her servant after all. This would need to be explored, but quietly.

I'm sorry, Rendil, the boy took off, and we were not able to stop him. Harmon was sitting comfortably in an oversized chair, a mug of ale in one hand and a chicken leg in the other.

How could a sixteen-year-old boy escape and you not be able to stop him? Rendil was still standing, the snow melting off his boots and forming puddles on the floor. He and Aphis had only just entered the hunting lodge and had not yet removed their outer garments.

Harmon Englot's hunting lodge was located in the foothills of the West Lumin Mountains above Hilldale. The snow was generally quite deep by this time of year, so they were pretty much guaranteed isolation.

Get your boots off, and get out of those snow-covered clothes. We have Susan's chicken and soup left over from the evening meal, and there is ale and wine. You are not going anywhere else tonight, so you might as well settle in. Young Mikey can tell you how Peter got away, but first let us get you both fed.

Thank you, sir. Aphis was already removing her outerwear and slipped out of her Elven boots.

Nice to have one of the woodland folks among us. Harmon was polite to the little Elf, though he was surprised to see her with the wizard. We don't see many of your folk up this way, and of course, we stay well clear of your secret city.

Aphis raised her eyebrows. You know of my city, Master Englot?

Those of us who know of the Elves of Lake Estonan and Alpenvail cannot freely walk into your city; however, we know of its existence, and we know enough to stay clear.

The Elven city was warded with strong magic—spells from before The Breaking—and was impossible to approach without an Elven guide. Humans would be turned in circles without understanding why. In this way, the Elves lived in virtual isolation. The magical city of Alpenvail was now buried under deep snow in the perpetual winter of the high mountains. Its protective magic was undone with the theft of the Earlach Stone.

It would be wise not to share your knowledge of my city with my king. Aphis spoke with no humor in her voice. He does not suffer uninvited visitors.

No worries, young lady. Harmon was smiling widely at the diminutive Elf. We have no plans to drop in on the king of the Elves.

After finishing a bowl of soup, two large chunks of bread, three mugs of ale, and several pieces of chicken, Rendil was finally ready to hear the tale of Peter and how this sixteen-year-old boy escaped two of the most competent hunters and trackers he had ever known.

When the messenger from Randolf, this boy Drake, showed up with the monk Basil from the abbey, that started the whole thing going south. Harmon was well into the story now, and everyone else pitched in the small details that made it complete.

Randolf? Rendil was surprised to hear this name. What in the world did Lord Randolf have to say that was so important?

Randolf sent Drake to warn that a renegade mercenary named Hardon had kidnapped the Lady Olivia. Karoel's cousin Michael jumped in to add this part. He also took the king's bastard son Brandon and some mercenary captain. He was holding them hostage in the northern mountains.

How is it that you and your family are here, Michael? Rendil was trying to put all the pieces together.

We were caught up in all of this when I was trying to smuggle Peter out of Alnen, after he and his friends escaped from the dragon—

Escaped from the dragon? Rendil was on his feet now. There are no dragons left in the world!

I know, Michael agreed, but those three saw one, and it was trying to burn them out of the old keep where the river falls off into the rift.

Save that one for later. Rendil dropped into a chair and refilled his mug with ale. How did Peter escape from here?

It was the demon moor cat! Mikey burst out from the far end of the table. Mikey was Michael's oldest son and could hold it in no longer.

We have met the moor cat, Rendil said, nodding.

You have? The young boy's eyes were open wide. So the demon moor cat didn't eat you?

The moor cat is no demon, but that too is a story for another day. Tell me, how did the moor cat help Peter get away?

When Peter took a horse and raced off down the trail to rescue the Lady Olivia. Mikey could not talk fast enough to get the story out. The demon cat stopped us from following. It spooked the horses and blocked the trail. Every time someone went outside, it forced them back in.

It's true, Rendil. Harmon was nodding in agreement. I took several shots at it with both bow and crossbow, and none touched it. The demon would appear and disappear at will. The horses would not stand for a saddle, and when we attempted to follow on foot, the demon was right there to stop us. Finally, we gave up, and honestly, none of us has tried to go beyond the perimeter of the lodge since.

It is safe to go out. Rendil sighed. The cat is not here any longer. It achieved its goal, and that was to allow Peter to leave. Though it did not exactly know why he needed the help, it gave help when Peter was in need.

You have more to tell us, Wizard, Michael said, filling his own ale mug. This was the same giant cat that helped us rescue Peter from the King's Elite after he was captured at Tibouli. Of that I'm certain.

Sounds like we all have more to tell, Rendil admitted.

Aphis silently curled up in the corner of the room, listening intently. She would relay all of this to the queen when she was able to use the scrying stone to reach out to her again. For now, she would just listen.

Chapter 3

Y our Grace, there is a messenger from Northcastle. Minister Milkwatt only approached part way up the dais. The king was in one of his moods today .

What does he want? King Leondis Tarbane barked at his First Minister.

He has a message from Lands End, Your Grace.

You said that already, you twit! What's the message?

I did not inquire, Majesty. After the last time, you told me not to ask about your messages but to just bring you the—

Bring the damn messenger in then, and be quick about it!

Leondis Tarbane was not a good king, nor a kind king, and was not loved by his subjects. He was nothing like old King Adon, his father. Adon moved the capital from its traditional location at Northcastle on the peninsula at Lands End to the more southerly location in Solenta. He did that in part to take advantage of the natural hot springs here. These kept winter at bay in the near magical castle gardens, as well as heated the castle itself. Even though it was snowing outside, Leondis was dressed in thin summer silks, and his bulk was bulging out on all sides.

The first minister entered with the Messenger Corpsman, who was clearly not comfortable being in front of the king.

Your Highness, uh, Your Grace, or Your Majesty, uh, I have a message from Northcastle for Your Grace, he stammered out the introduction.

Of course, you do, damn it! Do you think you would be standing here in front of me if you did not? The king sloshed his wine over the side of his cup and held it out for a refill from his ever-present cupbearer.

Yes, Your Majesty, uh, I mean no, Your Majesty, I mean—

Go ahead, boy. Milkwatt took hold of the boy's arm to steady him. Speak the message to your king.

Minister Carson wishes to inform His Majesty, King Leondis Tarbane, long may he reign, of the passing of Duke Martell Haren, steward of Northcastle and duke of Lands End. The messenger practically collapsed from the strain of delivering the message.

Haren is dead? Leondis sat up as straight as his bulk would allow, spilling half of his flagon in the process. Bannis! Where is Lord Bannis!

Lord Bannis is currently occupied, Your Majesty, Minister Milkwatt replied. He will join Your Grace shortly.

He said he would be here by the midday meal, did he not? Tarbane demanded.

He did, Your Grace. That is still an hour away.

I'm hungry now, damn it! Get him here at once!

At once, Your Grace. Milkwatt steered the messenger from the room and entered his office just outside. A castle runner was waiting for instructions. Go find Bannis. I believe he's in his private chambers under the dungeon. He needs to come now, by order of His Majesty.

The runner only nodded as he took off down the hall, his near silent feet padding away in the winter gloom. No one ever wanted to be sent to fetch Lord Bannis, particularly when he was in his private chambers.

Report to the garrison commander, Milkwatt informed the Messenger Corpsman. He will have a return message from the king within a day. Wait for that before you return to Northcastle.

Do your visions show you the Lady Olivia yet? Bannis' voice could make anyone's skin crawl.

My Lord Bannis, the seer croaked in reply. I've told you more times than I can count, I cannot command the visions. They will come when they come, and nothing you do to me can force them.

The seer was strapped to a table in one of the private chambers that Bannis kept deep below the dungeons. It was here he practiced his own not-so-subtle methods for extracting information from those he deemed to have something that would interest him. The seer was no different, and he regularly applied what he considered small tortures to get her to share her latest visions. She no longer had all the joints on several fingers of each hand. It seemed the pain of joint removal would cause her to enter the trance-like state where she had visions.

In spite of her complaints, his methods often did get something out of her, even if she did not remember the sessions. This time, he had given her a potion made from one of the new plants he purchased from his favorite apothecary. These came from deep in the southern jungles and had interesting effects that he was still only now learning.

We will see, Seer, if you can help me or not, he whined. He realized only now he did not know this woman's name, though she had been in his service for a number of years.

I can be of no service if I am dead, Lord Bannis.

I will not kill you, only help you to see, he cooed.

Lord Bannis? The voice called to him from the doorway.

What is it? Who dares to bother me in my private chambers? Bannis was storming toward the door, his fists clenched at his sides.

My Lord, the king wishes for you to attend him in the throne room immediately, uh, My Lord, the runner spoke as quickly as he was able.

The king or Milkwatt? Bannis tilted his head. He was not due to join the king for another hour.

The king, My Lord. He received a messenger and immediately summoned you, My Lord.

Messenger? From where?

Lands End, My Lord, from Northcastle.

Fine. Go now. I'll be right along.

The runner disappeared back down the hall and ran up the stairs as fast as he could, relieved that he did not end up a permanent resident of Lord Bannis' private chambers. Bannis returned to his subject strapped to the table.

I'll return as soon as I can, my dear, he again cooed in that annoying voice of his. I'm sure you will have something to say to me later.

Walking quickly from the room, Bannis could not help but wonder what message was so urgent that would require him to drop whatever he was doing and join the king. Leondis was regularly taking the subtle poisons that Bannis provided in his drink. These made him extremely paranoid; however, he rarely summoned Bannis like this.

Could it be news of Olivia? he said to himself as he climbed the stairs. Did the king discover her in Lands End? It would not be good for me if he found her and I did not.

Rushing up the stairs to stand before the king, Bannis did not notice one of his servants was still cleaning another of his private rooms. The robed man entered the chamber where the seer was now losing consciousness and held a brown bottle of clear liquid to her lips.

I cannot release you from your bonds, poor soul, but I can release you from this world. Go with the Divine Trinity.

The duke in Northcastle has died. Leondis was sitting at a table loaded with food. The whore, Jamilah, from Jam-Pur, was seated next to him. Bannis took his customary seat at the end of the table.

I'm sorry to hear that, Your Grace. Bannis acknowledged the king. He glanced at the whore, who did not indicate the king was in any special mood. Leondis often allowed her to join him for morning or midday meals, since she shared his bed most nights. She worked for Bannis, however, and she knew her place.

What of the Lady Olivia? Have you located her yet? Leondis stabbed a slice of lamb from the platter in the middle of the table and plopped it onto his plate without ceremony.

The lady was trying to reach her father, Majesty. Though my spies in Northcastle have not confirmed she has arrived, after this much time I can only assume—

Assume? Assume? What good is a spymaster who must always assume? Leondis abruptly rose from the table, spilling wine over his sleeve. At any rate, we must send an entourage to Northcastle for the funeral. Have Milkwatt see to it. I want Olivia back here as soon as possible. It's nearly time for the Choosing, and she will be my bride. Is that perfectly clear?

Perfectly clear, Your Majesty. How Olivia continued to evade Bannis was still a complete mystery. He must give credit to her handmaiden, who continued to maintain that the lady was simply ill in her rooms all this time. Bannis and the king knew she left the castle to be with her dying father, but where she ended up was still unknown.

The king returned to his seat and motioned to his cupbearer to refill his wine. Leondis was drunk by the end of the meal, falling all over his whore. Bannis was already plotting the next steps when the king surprised him again.

I think I should attend the funeral in person, Lord Bannis. His eyes were red and bloodshot from lack of sleep—a side effect of the subtle baleroot poison—as well as too much wine. The king was wearing his breastplate indoors, a good sign that he was still taking the paranoia-inducing drug.

I'm afraid that would expose you to your enemies, Sire. It would be very difficult to keep you safe. With the highwaymen that have been seen lately, the rebels of Al-Ashal, the outlaw Randolf, those Guardians, or another enemy of the crown, it is far too dangerous for you to be on the road. Your Majesty is really only safe here in Solenta, in the heart of the kingdom.

Leondis blinked his eyes several times in an effort to focus on his spymaster. Not quite able to do so, he took another deep draft of wine and threw the goblet across the room.

Quite right, Bannis, he drawled. I must remain here in safety until we have smashed all of the enemies of the crown.

Rising from his chair and leaning heavily on the diminutive Jamilah, the king drew a dagger from his belt and jammed it into the table, burying the point deep into the imported wood.

I want your plan to rid the kingdom of these traitors in full, by the next new moon, Lord Bannis, or I will replace you with someone who can solve these problems. Is that understood?

Yes, My King, I completely understand.

I want those blasted twins found and brought before me! Those usurpers! They are after my crown, and I want their heads! Here! On a pike! Hanging from the walls! Do you understand me?

Yes, My King, I understand, and I will take care of it.

Good! Jamilah, take me to bed!

The king and his whore stumbled off down the hallway toward his chambers in the center of the castle. Bannis managed to move him away from all windows to a dimly lit prison-like series of rooms where his depression would only worsen, and the drugs would make him even more pliable.

I will need to move things along faster than I imagined, Bannis spoke softly to himself. Back to the seer. I need to make sure the Lady Olivia doesn't spoil any plans.

Chapter 4

Nearly three weeks had passed since Barak was pierced by the Elven spear wielded by an Orc hunter he burned to death. The Orc served Khollaran, Barak's former master, but the evil wizard did not yet know of Barak's transformation and betrayal. The Orc was part of a larger hunting party, bringing captive humans to Khollaran for his Orc breeding program. Barak killed the party to prevent them from adding more breeders, and once he began, he could not leave anyone alive to report his betrayal .

Lying in his cavern, on top of his hoard of precious gems and other treasures, the dragon was regaining his magical strength as his wound was slowly healing. There was still some pain and a slight twinge deep inside, which Barak attributed to the Elven magic that was used to forge the weapon. Perhaps a small piece of the tip remained. If the Goblin sorcerer was correct, it would keep working its way toward the dragon's heart over time. The Goblin was dead now and could not provide any answers, but Barak did not feel threatened by the remaining wound—just a slight twinge of pain.

Bring me some meat, the dragon called out in his mind to his servant.

At once, Master, the always obedient human answered immediately. He had no name that the dragon knew, but somehow that seemed acceptable. He was just a slave after all—another human to be used and discarded as necessary.

The Wizard Khollaran knew the dragon was back in the caverns, but he had not summoned him, so Barak did not need to pretend to be Gurkinshka. Tribute was due from Al-Ashal, as well as other cities who payed tribute to their Lord-God Khall. The wizard would send the dragon to collect this soon, so Barak would have to be gone from his lair before long.

I've brought you a goat, Master. The servant was leading a live goat through the opening into the treasure cave. He stood back as the animal leapt up onto a step in the stone floor before he saw the great dragon in the darkness.

Whoosh! Fire engulfed the frightened goat before it had a chance to run, and with one sweeping claw, the meal was tossed into the gaping maw of the still-healing dragon.

I will need more than this, if I am to heal. He looked down the tunnel entrance at the small man who was not afraid in the presence of his Lord-God Barak. Do you fear me, slave?

Why would I fear you, Master? He seemed honestly surprised at the question. Your wish and whim are my command. My life is yours. I have nothing to fear in the presence of My Lord-God.

Good. The dragon loved praise, but he felt no false praise from this man. That is as it should be. I must go back to Al-Ashal in the next few days, and I fear I do not yet have the strength to fly. You must bring me several more goats and something more substantial.

What would that be, Master? The servant was honestly interested in pleasing his Lord-God.

The large green gem that the Dark Wizard keeps in his high seat. The one mounted on the pedestal carved with the runes of magic. Bring that to me.

Master?

Did you not understand?

I know of the gemstone you seek; however, in this I surely cannot succeed. The wizard protects this with strong Goblin magic, and any who approach are struck down by this protection without warning.

Strong Goblin magic? the dragon questioned his slave. Why would Khollaran use Goblin magic to protect this when he could just as easily use his own spells?

I don't know, Master, but I've seen it work. One of the Goblin sorcerers was there when it did, and the wizard thanked him for the spell. He said it was much stronger than anything the wizard could do himself. There is no way I can get close. I will try, Master, but I suspect I too will simply be struck down in the process.

Barak did not actually expect his servant to be able to bring him the Earlach Stone—the centerpiece of the most powerful talisman ever created. He asked mostly to see how the slave would respond.

It is not important right now. The dragon let his servant off the hook. It is something I desire above all else, however, so if there is ever an opportunity to collect it for me, you will do so. Is that clear?

Yes, My Lord-God Barak, if there is any way that I can steal the green gemstone from the wizard, I will do so and bring it to you.

Barak believed he would if he could, and that was all that mattered for now.

Go now, and bring me more meat. I will sleep for a while, but when I wake, I will be hungry, so be here with food.

At once, Master.

As the dragon fell into a fitful sleep, his dreams were of flying high into the morning sky, soaring among a thousand other dragons. His deep-red scales reflected the sunlight in a million directions at once. The dragons worshiped their Dragon Lord and trusted him to lead them to victory in the coming war.

The dragons were to join forces with the renegade Wizard Khollaran Markenos in the fight against the Wizard's Council. After the city of Ramon Tor and the War Wizards were destroyed, the young renegade wizard would be dealt with as well.

In his waking hours, Barak knew these were not his actual memories but only genetic memories from before The Breaking. In his dreams, however, he truly was the Dragon Lord Barak—the most powerful of all dragons to ever live, feared and worshiped by all living things.

The Orc soldier brought before the Dark Wizard was burned over much of his body. He was nearly incoherent and rambling in the guttural way that Orcs spoke Common. It was not entirely their own language, but it was corrupted enough to where it was incomprehensible to nearly everyone.

Khollaran looked down from his high stone seat in what served as his throne room, not understanding why this burned slab of walking Orc meat was here.

You have brought this Orc before me for what purpose? The wizard eyed the black-skinned slave who was once of the southern desert people.

He has been speaking of the great dragon, My Lord-God Khall, and asking for you.

His speech is incoherent. What is it he has been saying?

He talks of the dragon attacking his hunting party, burning them all where they stood. The Orc were carrying captives for My Lord-God's breeding program, and these too were destroyed. This Orc was the only one to survive.

Impossible! Khollaran stood on his dais, towering over the others in the chamber. Gurkinshka is completely loyal to me and knows of the importance of my breeding program. He would never do anything to risk our future success. This creature lies!

Yes, My Lord-God Khall. The slave pulled a long knife and slit the throat of the Orc, his black blood now pouring from his gurgling throat.

What? Why did you just do that?

"I only did as you commanded, My Lord-God. You commanded me to slit this creature's throat, as clearly as you are speaking to me now." The slave was in a panic, afraid he had offended his Lord-God, knowing that would mean instant death.

You heard me command you to slit its throat? Khollaran asked.

Yes, My Lord-God. As you commanded, I obeyed. I live only to please My Lord-God Khall.

The black bands of obedience were about this slave's wrists, which meant that he could not disobey or lie to the wizard. The dragon's binding magic assured that. Yet still, the wizard did not remember speaking the command, though he could have easily been thinking of doing exactly that.

Clean up this mess, and send the corpse up to the cavern where Gurkinshka spends his days. He can at least feast on the body of this worthless Orc.

At once, My Lord-God Khall. The terrified slave worked to mop up the pool of blood with the remaining clothing from the dead Orc.

The small Goblin sorcerer standing in the back of the room was grinning beneath his hood. Though he too wore the bands of obedience, the dragon magic did not work on Goblins, so he was free to work his own magic as he wished. The wizard was unable to sense Goblin magic, as he had proven through careful probing in past encounters. He was not aware that the Goblin ordered the slave to kill the Orc though mind-speech. Once bound to the wizard, these humans were open to mind-speech. They were not as pliable as they might be, but since this seemed like a command that the wizard would have issued, the slave had no problem carrying it out.

The Goblins swore allegiance to the wizard in the coming war, but were following the teachings of The Prophecy as passed down from the great Goblin Seer Grishal-nak. The Goblins in the past were aligned with the Dark Wizard in the Great War, though it nearly led to their total annihilation. They aligned with the Dark Wizard now, as this served their purpose, at least for a time. If the dragon was heading in a different direction, they would want to be sure this was not a better alliance than with the renegade wizard. Khollaran was still trapped in these caverns by the power of the Triadine, and that would limit his ability to lead an army out in the world. Time would tell which side was the right one, and the Goblins had time.

Chapter 5

E xplain to me again why I cannot just walk up to the castle and speak with Minister Carson? I am the duke's daughter and only heir, and apparently I am to be Duchess of Lands End as well !

Olivia, Brandon, Beorn, and Karoel had been penned up in the Ocean View Inn on the west side of Lands End for two days and were waiting for Jon and Peter to join them. During that time, Karoel was the only one to enter the city. Beorn did not venture out, as Dwarves were not a common sight and he would surely draw attention. Karoel only went out disguised as a merchant and mostly met with friends of his living in the outer city. Brandon would certainly be recognized as the bastard son of the king, and Olivia, well, Olivia did not even get to stand in the window. Her unmatched beauty could barely be hidden under a sackcloth, and she would likely be recognized in an instant.

I've told you, My Lady—the woodsman spoke softly, with utmost patience in his voice—"things I'm seeing in the city are not making any sense. We must wait for word from Jon and Peter. I sent my friend James to request a meeting with the first minister. He was told that Carson was unavailable and would not be accepting visitors. When he pressed the issue, as the head of the Trading Guild, he was escorted from the castle grounds and ordered not to return. He would be summoned when the minister was again taking appointments.

The funeral services for your father will be on seventh-day, in the tradition of the Divine Trinity. They will be held in the Grand Church and performed by Brother Vardin. All who can fit into the building are welcome, though there will be a select group who are invited into the chapel as well. The initial procession will take place through the inner city, followed by the service. Afterward, the procession will start again and wind its way through the lower city to allow for your people to express their grief. After that, the duke will lie in state for a week, before being placed into the crypt below the central keep.

Karoel was rambling a bit and he knew it. He was secretly worried because Jon and Peter were nowhere to be found. Bascombe, the garrison commander, was not very experienced, and this bothered the woodsman as well. Though running the stripped-down garrison at Northcastle was not normally a challenging duty, he certainly should not have detained Jon and Peter. They should have been able to collect their supplies, receive fresh horses and a wagon, and then been sent off to rejoin their unit. The only thing Karoel could think of that would change this was if Peter had been discovered. His ruse as Piers Lakeman was solid, but since others were now finding out the truth, it was possible he had been recognized. In addition, Olivia had not shown any real grief at the news of her father's death, and this bothered Karoel to no end.

I will attend the funeral services, Karoel, Olivia said at last.

Hopefully all of this will be resolved in a day or two, My Lady. The woodsman was not optimistic, and he hoped it did not show in his voice.

Either way, I will attend. She was adamant.

We will worry about that later.

My father was very fond of the duke, My Lady. Beorn had said this more than once in the last two days. He seemed more bothered by the death of the duke than Olivia was showing. Though I never met your father, I understand he was loved by his people and was a fair and honest man.

That he was, Olivia answered absently. She then turned to Beorn with a serious look on her face. You told me your father visited my father regularly, correct?

Ah, yes, not nearly as often as he wished, but my people traded in secret with the humans, um, with your people, through your father and his agents.

But you never met my father yourself.

No, I never did.

Do you look much like your father, Beorn?

No, not really, my father was much older. His beard had streaks of gray and was more full and—

To my people, Olivia interrupted, all Dwarves will look pretty much the same, I think.

I've heard that, My Lady. Humans cannot even tell our women from our men.

Your women look like your men? Olivia was caught off guard. Never mind. If I cannot go up to the castle because Karoel fears for my safety and Karoel cannot go into the inner city because he is sought after under a Royal Warrant, then you will go ask about my father.

My Lady?

That's a wonderful idea! Karoel exclaimed. I don't know why I didn't think of that!

Sure, send the Dwarf. Brandon was sulking and had been all day. Lock up the king's bastard and send the Dwarf.

It makes perfect sense. Karoel ignored Brandon and continued. You have come to trade, to meet with the duke as you have always done—well, as your father had always done anyway—only to find that the duke has passed. You would be expected to express your condolences as an ambassador of your people. As an ambassador, you could not be turned away.

I have nothing to trade, Beorn objected.

You can carry these, the woodsman offered. He pulled a small leather pouch from his pack and poured a handful of red and blue gemstones onto the table.

Rubies and sapphires? Brandon exclaimed. Why, that's a small fortune! Where does a woodsman get a fortune in rubies and sapphires?

That's not important. Karoel turned his attention to Beorn, who was intently studying the quality of gems on the table.

These are brilliantly cut, Beorn said absently. Looks like Gemformer Clan work to me.

Indeed, these were crafted by Waitland Gemformer, your grandfather, Beorn. Your father donated these to the Guardians some years ago to help fund our work. I've found a small number of gems are far more valuable than gold for certain transactions.

I would say so. Beorn did not look up from the gems on the table. My people don't really value gold and are always surprised at how much value humans put on the soft metal.

Karoel scooped up the gems and returned them to the pouch, handing it to Beorn. You will go to the castle to meet with the duke, and when you discover he is deceased, you will ask to meet with the first minister and express your condolences. You can request the details of the funeral and inform the minister that you will be attending as an emissary of your people.

What am I to try to discover?

"You will be invited to stay in the castle, in one of