“Gods, Delarosini! Where are you!??”
The King’s Royal Voice echoed with no magical enhancements throughout the halls connecting the main throne room where His Highness conducted affairs of state and handled….indiscretions. The tall, top-heavy sovereign hefted himself up off the dragon bone throne, quickly descending the stairs to the bottom, looking around at the fools bowing deeply before him as if they’ve done something wrong. Fearful of curses brought down on them like the burning rocks from the sky recently. The trail of his Royal Raiment swiped away anything that dared oppose his steps toward his current quest. Many ages have passed since His Majesty had seen a proper battle, but he still carried himself as a warrior. Physically and mentally. His auburn locks and beard were now grown longer from accepting the crown and learning the intricacies of magic. Plus, accepting his more recent roles of husband and father to the crown-regents. He still made time to practice his own warrior arts with the guards and soldiers, but he could tell they were taking it easy on him for fear of losing their heads if they were to defeat their King. That kind of attitude was what contributed to his current mood. That, and the incompetents surrounding him.
“Your Majesty. Whatever is the matter?” Count Delarosini stood in the door frame next to the red-faced King. In half a heartbeat, the Royal Sword came out of its scabbard and the point barely nicked the Count’s throat on hearing his words from it. To the Counts’ credit, he didn’t show any sign of fear. Just concerned that his King was overwrought and angry.
“I called for you more for too long! What in Hel’s name are you doing?!?” He put his fists to his hips, giving a definite impression of His Royal Rage.
“Just finishing up another experiment, your Highness. Nothing to be concerned about.” Delarosini waved a hand in dismissal and started going back in. If he was anybody else, he would have the Royal Guards grabbing him by his grubby robes and his head lopped off on the spot. But the King favored men of science and magic such as himself.
“Be careful with that hand, Count. You may not be able to do many incantations and such with one less limb.”
Delarosini turned back toward the approaching monarch and bowed. “My apologies, my benefactor. I had been so engrossed in this experiment that lost track of time. I do hope that I have not greatly inconvenienced you, your Grace.”
“‘Your Grace’ is a church title, scholar. It’s your Highness. Just what are you doing? Are you actually about to evoke one of the gods of the previous age? That was not just a ruse to get you free room and board in the Palace?” King Ro’Chela was told of this magical design by this outcast scholar and magician some time ago. Normally, with wild claims like his and his being thrown out of the accepted school of magic, Ro’Chela was ready to do the same with this brown-robed, hunched over weasel, but His Royal interest in magic and sorcery peaked at this claim. He decided, as opposed to the council’s Wise Advice, to give him resources needed to complete this Divine Task. Ro’Chela was power-hungry, but knew his armies were in need of re-building, re-arming and training after his father squandered His Family’s and the Kingdom’s Fortune in needless and useless wars, border skirmishes, losing those and making shady deals with the Nobles of those Kingdoms he lost to in order to keep from shedding more blood and losing more favor with his own and his people. His Father disappeared one night. Leaving His Crown and Vestments on the Royal Throne with no word whatsoever. Ro’Chela came of age shortly before that night, so the Vizier and the Council decided it was right for Him to take his Father’s place. So, his hunger for power had to be tempered with playing it safe and smart until the Kingdom could be taken seriously and as a military power again. He despised playing it safe, but he knew he couldn’t afford to look weak and broken like most thought of His Kingdom. Rumor had it that the King was accomplished in the magical art. That reputation came with harboring magic workers, sorcerers that could be talked into teaching him rudimentary skills, but keeping their more advanced and more harmful aspects of their craft to themselves. Some of the gossiping nobles wondered just how future history would see their “Sorcerer”/King.
“Just finish whatever you were doing and join us in the Chamber.” Without waiting for a response, He turned, Reignment flying behind him and the heavy mahogany door slamming shut, torches and lanterns flickering.
“Well, that was just rude. You’d think a King of any realm, earthly or otherwise would know better to interrupt something important.”
“Easy, My Lord. As you pointed out, he is mortal. He did not see you there. It would also not be wise if he were to see you or know about you at all.”
“Bah. This cloak and dagger game bores me. I have all of the information that I need from you and this….plane.” Karakoa pronounced that last word with no small measure of disdain. He grew tired of dealing with these small-minded monkeys that dared to overthrow the Gods without his and the other dark-kins’ help. “Will there be anything else before we begin our part of the work?”
“No more, my Lord.” Delarosini bowed deeply once more. Karakoa sensed a fellow traitor in this pampered human weasel. He could hear the thoughts and plottings of betrayal in his pink human brain assembling, re-assembling. “It’s a shame you mortal monkeys are so weak in all ways. Physically, mentally and spiritually. You would be a welcome addition to our Kin.”
“Pardon, my Lord?” Delarosini’s head cocked to one side, a curious animal maneuver.
“Nothing, mortal. You have all of the plans set in that soft, pink brain matter of yours? No longer needing to study your animal skin markings?” Another strange and wasteful habit the Dark-kin Karakoa found disgusting among these short-lived, talking monkeys. Using animal skins, dried and tanned for creating drawings to communicate instead of simply sending thoughts to one another. He shook his red hair and beard in shame dealing with these…never mind. The hint of flames followed the ends of his bright hair. They were easy to see against his night-dark body. Delarosini couldn’t tell if the Dark-kin was dressed or not.
“Yes, my Lord. I have it committed to memory.” The Vizier stood tall, head up. Proud of this mediocre achievement.
The Dark-kin stared at him for a few noticeable moments and with a growing grin that showed a mouth of fire behind his surprisingly dull teeth, he turned his large head sideways and said “Yes, I can see that. Very well done.”
Delarosini blinked and backed up one step. If he saw that in his mind…oh dear.
“Be calm, you soft ape. I thank you for approaching me with this idea. We can work out something of mutual interest. Just know that I do nothing for free. Nothing. If you want, look up our histories in dealing with you mortals.” The Dark-kin produced a large book, bound in tarnished silver and rough cut red gemstones, and dropped it at the Vizier's feet with a loud crash. Almost breaking them. A laugh echoed through the chamber before the smell of sulfur and smoke made him cough.
Delarosini opened his mouth to say something out loud about being just as rude, but thought better of it. If the Dark-kin could read minds…it could easily hear outspoken comments.
“No, dear slave. I only hear your simple language when I choose to.” Karakoa said aloud in his mind as he inhabited the statue of the mortals’ greatest known sorcerer here in Delarosini’s chamber. Exactly the reason this crude, hairless ape was the greatest sorcerer. Karakoa inhabiting his form, betraying his own kind. His fellow gods would pay the price for questioning the desire to maintain distance between the Heavenly Realms and the Earth. These hairless, stupid, upright walking monkeys deserved a boost in their evolution and who were his brothers and sisters to stand by and judge while mortals killed each other in wars, enslaved each other. He was not afraid to admit it. He himself judged, questioned the mortals’ existence, reason for creation. But he felt for them. Yes. He FELT for them. He liked these animals. They held potential. After all, they held the necessary ingredients for the overthrow of the heavenly gates. They and the elves together. He had already convinced the elven forces and their own magic-users to storm the gates, demand equality for his brothers and sisters. But, the next key, the next ingredient was in the forms of the mortal humans. With this poor, deluded wanna-be magician, he could taste that goal. That last ingredient. That last step in his plan for Heavenly domination. It was then that he wondered if he had spent too much time among these flesh-apes. He may be acquiring a taste for over-dramatizing. No matter. They will be dealt with once he and his other kin took over and hoarded magic for themselves.
“How you feeling now, boy?”
Mordred sat hunched over on a bench in the main hall of the Palace where they just took dinner more than an hour ago. Eldren’s question snapped him out of his head fog. Empress Marlina took the cup of tea from one of Her serving girls that could barely take her eyes off the distracted young human male and passed it to Mordred’s shaking hands. She held it there until he could drink it on his own.
“I’m fine. I’m okay.”
“You’re a terrible liar. I thought that I taught you better than that.”
“I feel horrible! Okay?! Just stop!!” Mordred stood up, still gripping the Royal Teacup, then slammed down the sweet, bitter brew, ignoring the heat going down his throat.
“Settle down, both of you.” She waved her hand downward and Mordred obeyed. “Take your time processing all of this. This will be valuable soon. More memories are coming to the surface, aren’t they?”
“Uhh….yeah. Yeah. Lots more..”
Marlina handed the cup back to the serving girl for more. She grasped Mordred’s hands with her own pale, bony but strong hands. “What can you recall to tell….” Before finishing that sentence, she stood straight up, looked off to their right at the opposite of the setting sun behind them. In the windows, there was what looked like an approaching storm, but Her concern said something else. Her Head twitched now and again and Her Mouth could be seen moving, talking to Herself. Maybe. She crouched down in front of Mordred again. “Please. I need you to tell me everything you’ve seen.”
“I saw….”
The silver, gold and ancient wood door swung open wide and fast, almost knocking over just as priceless ancient artifacts in the process of a guard’s panic. “Majesty! Please forgive the intrusion!!” He dropped to one knee loudly with head bowed, sweat dripping from it. His labored breath could be heard through the Royal Throne Room. Empress Marlina was annoyed, but on seeing and hearing the young guards’ gasping as he tried to beg for mercy again, she got up off her own knees and approached him. “What is it? Whatever is the matter?” She asked the shaking messenger.
“Men and women in outlying farms and villages report mysterious riders, your Majesty. Night-black armor. So dark, they swear that they could see stars. Their mounts the same, but their coats the same as well. Eyes shining between red and green.” He stayed down on one knee before his Empress, head down, panting between sentences. Not only from exhaustion, but from fear that he was likely taught as an infant like so many throughout the Land. It did not escape Her notice that he didn’t call them “peasants” or “commoners” like many Nobles in the Palace. It showed that this guard came from those outlying lands.
“Rise, guard. Tell me more. Where are these reports coming from?”
Cautiously obeying, he continued, but kept looking away from Her. Fearing that looking directly at Her would cost his head. Mordred and Eldren rose and came up behind Her, their curiosity peaked. “Korentar, Albretha and Porthir to the north and east so far. Messengers have just arrived at an outpost. I have the honor of delivering this message to You, Highness.” He bowed deep, a fist on his chest. That explained his exhaustion.
Empress Marlina turned toward the window that happened to face in that direction. Thick clouds gathered, She could see sparks of lightning in that direction as well.
“Tell my chambermaids to see to your recovery. Eat, bathe, rest and get a change of uniform. You’re to be commended for this valiant effort to deliver this message. You have My Thanks.” She bowed to the impressed young guard, his eyes widening at this gesture. He bowed in return, backing to the open door, closing it on his way out.
“Wasn’t that a little extreme a reward for just reporting some farmers’ stories?” Eldred still had that uncomfortable bluntness despite being in the company of the Empress of the Land and Her Nobles and other humans that could have been a positive influence on him.
“No, he took a great risk to send me that message.”, She said, moving quickly to another bell rope. Two more servers appeared. This day seemed full of magic tricks, but it was merely an illusion. The servers were behind drapes, ready to spring into action at Her request. Eldred and Mordred saw Her whisper instructions to them both. With their faces turning pale and toward each other, She shooed them on their way. After that, She moved to one side, staring into the air, lips moving with silent speech. Her face grew tense, agitated.
“With all due respect, Your Majesty, what is going on?” Mordred asked with his usual civility and respect toward higher authority that Eldren lacked.
“Normally, I’d just tell you that this has no involvement with you, but this time….”, pausing, looking out at the growing storm… “this does involve you, Mordred. I have something to tell you. Come with me, both of you, while I tell you what’s going on.” As she motioned them to exit the grand ballroom of the Palace, Eldred noticed that the armor and even Mordred’s dark sword were gone. He did double, triple takes, looking around the place, knowing that anyone that touched that sword besides bear-boy got slapped backward against whatever could stop their flight. Anyone living.
The armor, gloves, boots with no scratches, no sign of wear and tear of centuries, aeons since it was forged in the stars, melted with the heat that created the universe and the obsidian sword that was forged by forces older that what the occupiers of The Land called magic lay neatly in a pile. Like a tall laundry maid had folded up the jerkins, the leggings. Armor, gloves, leggings and boots stacked in an order next to them. Shiny and untarnished with no scratches remaining on them from when Mordred tried them on not long ago.
The were-beasts in the arena outside the Palace gathered around the unexpected surprise. The pile sat neatly in the middle of the arena floor, the were-beasts and their human opponents interrupting their bout at the unexpected visitor. The human giant, Clarnan, dropped his war ax at the sight of the shining new armor and the black sword with flames seemingly etched onto the blade flat.Images of so much Empirical Coin rolled through his thick, thin-haired head, his greedy smile bearing few teeth. The were-bull he was fighting saw to get rid of more of them. It was the touch of Clarnans’ thick, scarred hand on the new arrivals that brought the ale-addled crowd to their feet, cheering for what they thought was a prearranged spectacle. The human giant flew through the air as if the were-bull knocked him off of his feet with a punch and he landed on his broad back, twitching and shuddering. He groaned, eyes rolling.
“Touch it!! Take it!!” The crowd roared, demanding more for their hard-earned gold marks. Further proof to the gathered fighters that the crowd was crueler than they themselves were rumored to be.
Delarosini took bodily form in the middle of the gathered half-animals that were still deciding whether or not. Still wearing the silk shirt, vest, breeches, boots and emerald medallion indicating his Royal Office and Favor with the King, he waved his arms around the gathered growling, huffing and grunting crowd, pretending to set up a spell to make them vanish or turn into full animals ready to be hunted by the Empress’s Guards. As he predicted, they backed away.
“Once again and as always throughout the eternities of eternities, so shall it be decreed unto the once and future gods of all created and un-created cosmos! So let it be known that the *COUNT* Delarosini has arrived to intimidate all lesser creatures. Namely, anyone that isn’t himself!” Aa’l’iatia of The Stone announced before she also materialized next to the blustering ghost. Delarosini took the appearance of his royal office of Court Seer and Magician as well as Visier, while Aa’l’iatia appeared more ethereal. What looked like gauze ribbons enveloped her also floating slender, elfin figure and head. Making the mid-day sun look brighter through them to the gathered, mostly drunk crowd.
“MY ego? Look who appears out of the middle of the air all transparent and mystical, still talking as if she just stepped out of the astral realms! I thought you heavenly spirits were above sarcasm.”
“No, once again, you’re wrong. We’re not above it. We’re just selective regarding who deserves it.”
Delarosini had his mouth open for a reply when the rumbling began. It was not the were-beasts gathered with their many-shaped mouths open, attempting to take in the events. It was outside the arena, coming closer.
Even Aa’l’iatia looked shocked, her ethereal form looking out of focus and less deliberate.
The thick treated and reinforced square doors that normally were opened to much fanfare to the gathered nervous warriors, in addition to the mysterious arriving guests, burst open. Through the flying splinter and dust, the mounted, armored knights and their beasts wore matching crests and armor. Red and black with a dagger piercing the guardian of the gates of Heaven. The horses themselves were dark, but not so much so that one could see their leg muscles pumping as they carried their hooded and helmeted riders to the gathered confused. They were being circled, dust rising and choking them except the magic-user and the floating elf.
“Who are you?! How dare you intrude on Royal Ground!?” Aa’l’iatia shouted in her ghostly voice, deep and booming in any nearby ears.
“How dare we?!?” A more sinister domineering voice responded to all nearby. “You summoned us, My Lady Liege!” The one that spoke flipped open his steel visor, revealing green and red eyes with a smell of sulfur and ash. The Lady known as Aa’l’iatia visibly, if not audibly, gasped and would have blushed if she could.
“What was that blasted noise??” Eldren spread his clawed hands on the stone wall, steadying himself, same as Mordred and The Empress. She maintained a better Composure, as expected, but it was clear that this was unexpected.
“You may have called it correctly, dear goblin.”
Mordred stood looking up at the ceiling above them, turning in circles, not paying any mind to the dirt and dust coming down on them. The tunnel led from the palace under the arena.
She intended to lead them to the courtyard and to the armory through this underground tunnel that the arena fighters and even animals used. Aa’l’iatia foretold that there was an army seeking out the savior, the reborn Knight Warren. Neither Mordred nor Eldren heard or saw this exchange. Everyone else in the vicinity of the Holy Empress thought that Marlina merely had the odd habit of talking to Herself, but this time, Aa’l’iatia goaded Mordred into putting on the full armor to attempt to bring Warren back from the dead. Or at least, mostly dead. Her ruse worked. The young Deneoan WAS indeed Warren from the Knights of the Emerald. The ones who nearly ruined her and Delarosini’s plans to finish what that incompetent fool Ro’Chela began with his childish ego’s ranting.
“Boy! Let’s go before you get buried! Neither one of us can dig you out if you’re dumb enough to stay here!”
“Speak for yourself, purple one.” came the Empress’s mild commanding voice. She raised one slender arm, hand up and fingers spread wide. The dust and broken stone that had been coming down on them slid off of an apparently invisible bowl over the 3 of them.
“A magic-doing queen. What children’s story-scroll have I wandered into this time?? C’mon, Mordred! Let’s get going while Her Highness saves our necks!”
Mordred didn’t move. His fists doubled, the muscles pushing his heavy leather armor to its limits, his face turning red.
“Are you turning bear again, boy? At least let me sell some tickets and find an opponent with a death wish!” Eldren kept his eye on the exit they were going toward before the ground decided to erupt above them.
The ground directly above Mordred began to crumble and start burying the young Denoan, with daylight over his head. The dirt from the arena floor burying him began to flow away from him instead. The armor that brought about his transformation earlier dropped to his feet.
“Oh dear. What’s going on?” Empress Marlina asked the air around Her, Her head moving one side to another. To Eldren, that was peculiar. Like she was confused, unsure of Herself.
“Goofy Royals” Eldren said to no one in particular, his little fists clenching and releasing, helping him decide whether or not to try and snap Mordred out of this…spell….or run for his miserable, long life. “Damnit, boy!” He gave up the chance to run for his life and dove for his large young friend. He knew it may be like colliding with a marble post, but he had to try to snap him out of whatever reverie it was this time holding him back.
Before he could get a running start, Eldren saw the armor rise and snap onto his arms, hands, torso, legs and feet and a helmet to finish it off. With no words of warning, Mordred raised his shining arms and rose to the crumbling surface above them, the dirt and dust scattering, covering Eldren. Empress Marlina, not so much. She stopped her magical motion and dropped to Her knees. Eldren shook off most of the dirt and reached for Her slender pale hand. “I can’t hear her. She’s stopped our communication. What have I done?!”
“Goofy Royals.” Eldren mumbled before pulling Her Majesty to Her feet and motioning Her to follow him since he wasn’t tall enough to drag Her along or pick Her up. She appeared lost, in a fog, not as self-assured and almost ethereal in appearance like she usually did to Eldren and Mordred. Something was….missing. She kept mumbling something about failing Her father, Her subjects and how She should be tried as a criminal. Eldren swore not to become a Royal, no matter the job or who offered it, or what the conditions were. “Brain damaged goofs” he said, pumping his short legs and watching behind him for Her Majesty to focus long enough to keep up.
They climbed the stairs to the box seats in the arena. The sunlight that normally shone in the center of the ringed seats paled and barely showed as gray. In the dust surrounding some were-beasts and armored fighters were the largest horses Eldren had ever seen. And their riders. They looked like those carvings on tablets he had seen at some of the caravan stops they made. Like horrible, evil looking elves, scorched after the great rebellion. Black smoke seemed to surround them and spread through the gathered fighters and were-beasts.
“I wished things were different, boy. This looks like a LOT of gold to be made here. I’d like to see any swindling managers try anything..” Eldren grinned wide, rubbing his hands. Empress Marlina was too bleary of mind to ask who he was talking to, her pale thin fingers rubbing at Her face, groaning out questions.
The crowd, normally drunk and loudly shouting orders at the warriors in the arena, were silent. In the center where Mordred rose, fully armored, shining in what little daylight there was were dark horses. The armor on them matched their riders. Both circled the young human knight now holding up his obsidian sword that flamed as he got into position. Eldren had watched Mordred get ready for arena bouts before, but nothing like this.
It was true. He could absorb any ability with weapons that they carried and that included armor, it seems. Eldren pulled and tugged at the Empress’s hand, hoping she didn’t shatter. The inner strength that She seemed to radiate on their first meeting dropped to a hint now for some reason. “At least….with Mordred…..he was strong enough…..to move….on his own!” he grunted, leading his Empress to a ringside seat. He had to shove and push some of the fixated crowd aside to get them both a space and to sit Her down for now. He’d have to deal with this newest babysitting duty later. For now, he jumped down over the side railing to the central ground of the arena. Many years of blood and rain had made this ground soft, but usable for traction. For Eldren’s small feet, running to the action was easy. He saw what looked like the snooty character from a few days ago. The ghost that asked the strangest questions and claimed he was a Duke or some crazy Noble from way back. Arguing with him was a wispy copy of the now-babbling Empress, but almost transparent.
The red and black armored riders and their horses circled Mordred and the wildly motioning ghosts. Mordred stood with his arms and hands straight up, looking up at the opening sky, his flaming sword pointing towards it.
Eldren felt his feet leave the earth. One of the dark armored riders had picked him up with a lance through the back of his tunic, and held him up like this. “Where do you think you’re going, purple demon?!?” a voice that sounded like it came from inside a tin can asked rudely.
He paid for that rudeness with a flaming sword cutting into his armor and doing some damage to his arm underneath it. He dropped the goblin and the lance while howling in agony.
Mordred didn’t even look their way, keeping his helmeted face toward the opening sky, his sword arm returning to its proper place while the clouds parted.
“Boy?! What in Eastgate’s Moving Mountain is going on?!” Gratitude wasn’t Eldren’s strong suit, but the idea was there. A few of the gathered sulfur smelling armored riders brought out their crossbows and aimed at the large human in the odd but vulnerable position. “Aw no, not again! Why am I always saving your bear-skinned hide?!?!” The goblin ran toward him. “First it’s the Royal wackos that I have to save, now it’s you, you young….” The vision of descending ethereal human-ish people coming down from the opening in the sky made him speechless. At any other time, Mordred and a great majority of those who know Eldren would have dropped to their knees and praised what remaining gods there were for that miracle, but he and the enraptured audience could tell that those prayers were no longer necessary. They were here among them. The riders’ aimed arrows at them and released them. Each wooden and steel tipped weapon melted as they arrived closer to the creatures, falling to the ground in sizzling chunks of metal and wood.
“A’aliatia!! What treachery is this?!!” The rider that looked like he was in charge, only and simply because he was the tallest and rode the biggest horse, shouted to the confused looking spirit. “This was not the deal!”
“Deal?!” came a shout from behind Eldren. He jumped forward a step, startled. Empress Marlina seemed to have come to Her Senses. “What is he talking about? What is happening to Mordred??”
The young human dropped his arms to his sides, sword still alight, armor shining clearer as if it had just been polished in the past few moments. The gathered ethereal looking humans moved around Mordred. They all appeared to be talking with each other, maybe even plotting. But what?