Maelstrom E-Book

Adam Collins

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Having escaped the clutches of the Hag Silvene, Megan has been recaptured by Darkspawn lord Alsheer, and resumes her journey toward Bal-Karesh.

Anabel has been left distraught at the loss of her friend Merrith and vows to do anything to aid her release from a fate worse than death, marriage to slave-master Grik.

Brinn is entangled in a war not of his choosing in Timberland North, but feels compelled to help his Dwarf friend Helfwen regain the High King’s throne. But the sickness grows ever worse, and Balzimar has to watch helplessly as his young acolyte falls deeper into the abyss with each accidental use of the latent magic running amok through his body.

Ben Preem sits outside the walls of Mabak-Var awaiting a resolution to the conflict that has plagued mankind for a generation. When Regent N’Dhun offers honourable terms for surrender, Overlord Imrit must make a tough decision. A decision that will have profound consequences for all of Mankind.

The Karesh are ready to take back what was once theirs. But when Ultor consults the Seers the message is mixed. Though he is shown great victories for his army, there is also danger. The mysterious Northman, as ever, stalks the edges of prophesy, his presence casting a cautionary shadow over all. The Karesh warlock has carefully placed his pieces upon the chessboard; now it is time for his next move.

Heave -ho, me hearty lads, heave-ho.
Furl sail and run for home.
‘Twixt thunderous cloud and rising tide.
And mind the Maelstrom, berth her wide.
Or rest yer bones to windward side.
To ne'er again see smiling bride.
Heave-ho, me hearty lads, heave-ho.
("The Widow's Wheel."Ballad, circa 325 Mur-ro.)

Leseprobe

Adam Collins

Maelstrom

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Intro

417

Bloodthorn Series

BooK FouR

Maelstrom

Copyright © 2017 Adam Collins

All rights reserved.

Dedicated with love to my family

Works

Bloodthorn Series

1. STOLEN

2. Blood and Fire

3. GATEKEEPER

4. Maelstrom

Contents

Contents

Chapter 1. Sendar

Chapter 2. Battleaxe

Chapter 3. Manacle

Chapter 4. Retribution

Chapter 5. Cocoon

Chapter 6. Queen's Man

Chapter 7. Ballista

Chapter 8. Futak

Chapter 9. Talks

Chapter 10. Scry Orb

Chapter 11. The Swordfish

Chapter 12. Brandy

Chapter 13. Sad News

Chapter 14. Monsters and Demons

Chapter 15. No Mercy

Chapter 16. The Shallows

Chapter 17. Pine Trees

Chapter 18. Finger of Dread

Chapter 19. Returns

Chapter 20. Malak

Chapter 21. Decency

Chapter 22. Scar

Chapter 23. Hope

Chapter 24. Bile

Chapter 25. Over Here!

Chapter 26. Judgment

Chapter 27. Drums

Chapter 28. Maelstrom

Chapter 29. Unite

Chapter 30. Alliance

Chapter 31. Knowing

Chapter 1. Sendar

An autumn wind was sweeping south, sending most of the docklands' denizens running for the comfort hearth and home. Cold slanting rain, drenched to the bone, any foolish enough to venture outside, as three hooded figures crossed the muddy road between the wharf and a line of grey wooden buildings facing seaward.

'This is the one,' said the group leader, looking at the swinging sign over the tavern door.

A smattering of old sailors, pickpockets and miscreants, with scarred, wind-blasted faces and hard eyes, turned to observe the new arrivals. Tam walked to a nearby table and sat with his back to the wall. Rat and Lom joined him, removing their hoods, and slipping off their cloaks to reveal an array of weapons. Curiosity sated most of the tavern occupants returned to their previous conversations and the three soon blended into the throng.

As the barkeep returned for the third time with refilled flagons, Tam placed a single gold crownhead on the table before him, 'I'm looking for someone,' he said.

A knowing smile crossed the barkeep's lips as he glanced down at the golden coin, 'Come to the right man, you have, squire. Wot's the fellow's name?'

'Sendar Bragg,' answered Tam.

The barkeep straightened and scratched the side of his temple, 'Name's familiar all right, though the face ain't jumpin' to mind right off.'

Tam placed a second gold coin on top of the first.

'Sendar Bragg, yes it's comin' back now. Didn't he used to work for the slave lord Ortor Magnast? I believe he was an architect or somethin' like that, wasn't he?'

With the soft clinking chink of metal on metal, the duo of coins became a threesome.

The barkeep scooped up the payment, 'He's the lone drinker at the table near the window.'

Tam nodded his appreciation as the man turned and left.

***

It was close to midnight before Sendar pushed back his chair and stood to leave The Admiral's Rest. Pulling his coat tight to ward against the cold night air, he staggered up the promenade. Oblivious to the grey wet world around him, he lurched unsteadily along from puddle to puddle in a rum-befuddled meander.

'The sea she be a comely maiden,' he sang to himself. 'The sea she be a lovely lass. Adrift upon her briny bosom. The lonely sailor drinks and laughs,' he stumbled into a rather deep puddle, only just managing to stop himself from falling headlong into the muddy road. 'Easy shipmates...mind yer step!' he giggled as he stumbled forward again. Continuing his homeward lope, he quickly returned to his song anew. 'The sea she be a comely maiden. The sea she be a lovely lass. She broke my heart and left me stranded. Upon this lonely barren patch.'

The creaking groan of a loose foot board somewhere behind in the darkness made Sendar sober up just enough to realize, he was being followed. His stagger reduced and his gait increased as fear gripped him. 'The sea she be...' he began to sing again but now it was to himself in a fearful trembling voice. Somehow, the song was helping him to keep the fear at bay. '...a comely...maiden. The sea she be...a lovely...lass.' His breath issued from his tight lips in short steaming shafts as his pace quickened. 'And though she left me...lost and...stranded.' He dared a quick look behind and saw nothing but dark shadows and slanting rain. 'My love for her...will forever last.'

'Evening friend,' a deep voice said.

Sendar's head whipped back around to face forward. A dark figure disgorged from the shadow of a doorway just ahead. The man was big, his square shoulders heavily muscled, wide and menacing, blocking all light, hiding the giant's face in deep shadow.

Sendar froze.

'Sendar Bragg?' the deep voice asked.

Sendar's bowel convulsed, threatening to release its contents into his undergarments. Before he could fully comprehend, his mind had taken control. It took him a further few seconds before the realisation that he was running at top speed up a darkened alley, between two buildings, finally struck home.

'Halt!' roared the deep booming voice behind him. But Sendar was in no mood to listen and his scrawny legs continued their manic, ungainly, gallop. The end of the alley was intersected by another, forming a tee-junction. Sendar turned left but came to an immediate halt on seeing the outline of another man entering the alley ahead. Turning, he dashed in the opposite direction, back across the original alleyway and on towards the clear section ahead.

'There's two of 'em,' he mumbled, fear leaching the alcohol induced fuzz from his mind. 'Light protect me this night!'

The way ahead was dark and foreboding. A fetid smell of decay rose to fill Sendar's nostrils as he ran through a hodge-podge of discarded rubbish, empty crates, and old barrels. The sound of heavy footfalls directly behind confirming his pursuers were close at hand. Eyes wide with wild terror, he ran for his life fearing to look behind, knowing the shadowed faceless men were gaining ground with every stride. With lungs burning and leg-muscles turning to jelly, the middle-aged architect rounded a bend and saw the welcoming lamplight of a broad main street hove into view. Two Night Guards were leaning against one of the buildings idly chatting. A low wail of relief left Sendar's lips as he scrambled the last few steps towards safety. 'Help me!' he managed to rasp as he fell into the arms of one of the burly men.

'Wot's goin' on here?' the large guard said as he grabbed hold of the exhausted Sendar.

It took a few moments for the wheezing man to regain some of his composure before he could recount his story. The two guards immediately entered the alley and walked all the way down to the first bend, 'Empty!' one of them shouted back to Sendar. A moment later the two guards were back standing before the terrified man, 'Must have bolted when they saw us,' one of them offered. 'Where's your digs?'

'Potter's Lane,' Sendar answered.

'That ain't too far, we'll see you home, friend,' one of the guards said.

Sendar smiled and thanked his rescuers profusely, slipping each man a silver piece in gratitude.

The wooden stairs leading up to his room were wet and creaky, and it was with a great sense of relief that Sendar unlocked the door, stepped inside, and quickly re-locked it again.

The room was dark, save for the pale shaft of yellow streetlight streaming through a gap in the curtains. Sendar fumbled for his tinderbox, quickly igniting its internal wick. Pressing the lighted taper to several candles brightened the gloom. 'I hate the dark...' he mumbled.

'It has its uses,' a deep voice remarked from the shadows in the corner.

Sendar dropped the tinderbox and turned to face the shadows, his down-turned lips peeled back in abject terror. 'Who's there?' he managed to squeal in a tremulous voice while back peddling against a boxwood wardrobe, causing one of its doors to split and crack rather loudly.

A hooded man stepped into the candlelight, his face still obscured in the folds of his cowl. Bending low, he retrieved the fallen tinderbox and casually proceeded to light the kindling in the fireplace. As the flame took hold, warm light bathed the man's face illuminating his blonde hair with yellow glow. With a flick of his wrists the hood was removed revealing clear tanned skin and handsome features.

'General Brand!' Sendar exclaimed.

'You know who I am?' Tam nodded. 'Good, that will save time. I hate long-winded explanations.'

'What does the Queen's Consort want with me?' Sendar almost pleaded.

'Word has it, you worked for Ortor Magnast?'

'The war's over, General, and the Queen's pardon stands for all who keep the Queen's laws. I'm the Queen's man now, loyal and true. My days of rebellion are long behind me, and glad I am of it. I just wants to live in peace.'

'What was your involvement?'

'I wasn't involved in any of the fighting; if that's wot you're askin', m'lord. By-gam no!' he laughed nervously. 'I'm a naval architect by trade, you see. All's I ever did was design ships.'

'I know,' Tam answered in a low emotionless voice.

'So you see, m'lord, I had nothin' to do with any of the fighting. I been right here in The Prime during that whole terrible mess.'

'Tell me about The Swordfish?'

Sendar's face went a sickly grey, 'Wha-what do you mean, m'lord?' he stuttered.

Tam sat in a chair by the fire and removed his pipe, filling it with tobac. 'Don't be foolish, Sendar,' Tam's voice lowered as he placed the pipe in his mouth and lit the contents. A long stream of smoke lanced from between his pursed lips. 'Magnast commissioned a new type of ship, one that could sail against the wind, with a specially designed hull that would allow it to cross The Shallows.'

'How...? How do you know this...?' the question fell from Sendar's lips before he could stop himself.

Tam smiled and sucked on the pipe making the tobac glow. 'I have my...sources.'

Sendar walked rather unsteadily towards the only other chair in his sparsely furnished room and sat rather heavily, 'What else do you know, General?'

'I know that you plan to sell the ship to the Pirate King.'

'I-I--' Sendar stuttered again.

'Don't even try to deny it!' Tam said, cutting him off. 'You have but one chance now...' he added, shaking his head solemnly.

'And that is?'

'I think you know what that is. And being a loyal Queen's man, I know you'll do the right thing,' Tam smiled again, sucking generously from his pipe.

Sendar stared into the rippling flames of the hearth, 'I'm a poor man, General. I've lost everything. Wealth, status...my work... My Ship is the only thing of value left...'

'You haven't lost everything. You still have your life,' Tam answered, his friendly tone replaced by a dower statement of fact.

Sendar looked up sharply on hearing the veiled threat. Anger filled his eyes in a fleeting momentary glimmer that died as quickly as it was born. He slumped back in resignation.

'Where have you hidden it?' Tam asked.

Sendar looked down at the welts and scratches on his careworn hands and spoke without raising his head, 'She isn't finished. Since Magnast died, I've had to work alone. There's still a lot to be done...'

'I'm sure we'll be able to find you some help,' Tam smirked.

Sendar nodded, a look of defeat on his tired crag-lined face, 'The Reed Swamp.'

Tam stood, 'Good! You can show us where?'

Sendar nodded dejectedly.

Tam walked to the door and opened it. Outside on the porch, Rat and Lom were standing guard in the slanting rain. Tam turned to face Sendar, 'Of course, we are going to need someone to show us how to sail this new ship of yours. Can you think of a suitable candidate?' Tam's asked, his smirk widening.

Sendar looked up, an expression of hope spreading across his face, 'There's only one man knows how to sail that ship, General.'

'Well then that's settled. You may now consider yourself the Queen's architect.'

Sendar smiled excitedly, 'What's the pay?'

Tam frowned, 'For now, be happy you're not in irons awaiting trial for subversion.'

Sendar’ smile faded. With drooping shoulders and a downcast face, he followed Tam out through the door and into the cold, wet night.

Chapter 2. Battleaxe

Brinn scanned the forest floor ahead for any sign of movement. The Karesh were in full retreat, leaving the sick and wounded to fend for themselves. Having witnessed the atrocities carried out against helpless women and children in many of the burned-out villages along the way, the Dwarves were in no mood to show mercy. All Karesh stragglers were immediately put to the sword upon capture.

The way ahead was clear. With a sweep of his hand, the lead scout beckoned the Dwarves forward. The sound of an army on the move is a hard thing to mask even for the forest-dwelling Dwarves. The sound of clinking metal and snapping twigs rolled through the midday shadows like an invisible wave. With a cautious step, Brinn, moved forward, eyes peeled for any signs of the enemy. Though defeated the Karesh were still a dangerous and cunning foe. Ambush was a regular occurrence in the heady crush of unending trunks, slowing the advance to a crawl.

With each destroyed village, Brundan Bearbane's anger grew. The sight of dead villagers, hacked and burned to death in their homes, was as a knife through the heart of the Dwarven king. A grim determination filled his eyes. He could not protect his people in their hour of need. The weight of that failure was crushing. He could not bring them life anew, but he could avenge them. A cold snarl formed on his dry cracked lips as he hefted his battle-axe and followed the leading columns of warriors heading toward the border forts that lined the River Myre.

An arrow whizzed past Brinn's head and lodged in the chest of a Dwarf warrior walking a few paces behind. With a quick jump and roll, the Pathfinder was out of the firing line behind the crusty bole of a large oak before a cascade of arrows felled many of the Dwarves on his section of the line. 'Ambush!' Brinn roared at the startled Dwarves behind.

A second volley of arrows whizzed through the trees, some finding mark, but most clanging noisily against the Dwarves metal shields. The Dwarves returned fire. A chorus of muffled shouts intermingled with guttural curses from the dying Karesh, a testament to their success.

'Attack!' Bearbane shouted and was up and running in a blink, catching his men by surprise.

The warrior king rushed ahead oblivious to the danger, disappeared into the deep undergrowth of the forest, and was gone from view. Brinn was one of the first to react and was on his feet and running before he could think. Beyond the first line of brush, fifty paces ahead, Bearbane was in mortal combat with five Karesh warriors, two bloodied bodies already lying motionless at his feet. Brinn ran forward to aid the struggling king and reached him just in time to stop a killing blow that would have cleaved Bearbane's head in two. With a blocking swipe and a quick backhand reverse thrust, Brinn removed the immediate danger and quickly added to his tally by dispatching two more warriors in quick succession.

A strangled horn sounded through the clear morning air as Karesh reinforcements arrived. The Dwarven army burst through the divide and attacked all along the line of defense. The roar of battle and the ring of steel on steel reverberated through the leafy shadows as both sides engaged in frenzied attack. It took less than ten minutes to break through the first lines of Karesh. The second line poured flights of arrows into the Dwarf support ranks arriving from the rear. A second horn blast ended the battle as the Karesh retreated leaving their wounded were they lay. A great cheer rose up all along the Dwarven line at the sight of the fleeing enemy.

Bearbane walked to where Brinn was breathlessly standing, 'Thank you, westman,' he said, clasping Brinn's shoulder and nodding his appreciation.

'You need to take care, highness. We cannot afford to lose you,' Brinn said.

Bearbane looked the Jarrian Pathfinder in the eye, 'And you won't, lad. Not for a while anyways,' he smiled.

'You can't kill them all, by yourself, highness,' Brinn answered.

Bearbane nodded and slowly walked away.

Helfwen sidled up beside Brinn and stood watching retreating king, 'You ok, lad?' he asked Brinn.

'Never better,’ he answered, looking at Bearbane as he walked away. ‘His anger’s going to get him killed,' Brinn added forlornly.

Helfwen said nothing for a long moment before answering, 'When a father feels he’s failed his family, it is a most grievous pain. But at least he has only one family to protect. A king is the father of fathers...when he fails the pain is beyond understanding.'

'Wise words,' Brinn nodded.

'They came from the mouth of a very wise Dwarf…my father,' Helfwen said, before turning away.

As the sun dipped, and the evening shadows lengthened, the Dwarven army made camp and posted sentries for the night. Clearing the northern forest had not been an easy affair. Seven days of hard fighting had finally brought them to within striking distance of the borderlands and the River Myre. Tomorrow they would liberate the border forts and finally free their lands of all remaining enemy forces.

***

Dawn was not far off and yet the black of night remained. Neither fire nor sound marked the Dwarf encampment. Warriors, who had hunkered on wet fern and moss for the night, now rose at the merest touch, ready for whatever the new day would bring. As the first tendrils of predawn light grayed the eastern sky, scouts fanned out and disappeared into the darkness ahead. Moments later Bearbane gave the command and the army advanced, as one, in silent step. Brinn sped ahead of the main body, hoping to use his exceptional night vision to scout the ground for any danger. But his gifts would be of little use in confines of the densely packed forest. A sudden shout far off to his right was followed quickly by the familiar sound of battle. The right flank of the army had made contact with the enemy. Brinn watched as flaming arrows lit the predawn dark, silhouetting a mishmash of Dwarven figures, little more than dark shadows in the pervading gloom, as they ran forward to storm the enemy line. The Karesh had made a strong defensive position along a patch of high ground. Having fortified the apex with a latticework of tree trunks and heavy branches, the Dwarves now faced a difficult uphill battle against a well-entrenched enemy. Large balls of fire rose into the air behind the Karesh lines, crossing the latticed bulwark to descending with a roar to explode amongst the tightly packed ranks of Dwarf infantry.

'Catapults!' someone shouted.

Another volley of fireballs rose into the air, this time directly ahead of where Brinn was standing.

'Cover!' the same voice shouted as the fireballs came hurtling towards them at a terrific speed.

The ground shook as plumes of fire engulfed the startled Dwarf ranks.

Brinn jumped and rolled away as a fireball erupted nearby engulfing two warriors in flame. Their screams chilled him to the bone as they clawed helplessly at skin alive with flame, to no avail.

'Attack!' roared Bearbane, and with his battleaxe held high, rushed forward into the throng of heaving bodies battling to overpower the Karesh perched upon their wooden wall of felled tree trunks at the top of the hill.

Brinn looked quickly about. Helfwen and Brok were picking themselves up from the ground nearby having only just managed to avoid the exploding fireball. 'The King! Protect the King!' he shouted at them, pointing towards the running figure of King Bearbane.

Helfwen nodded and ran to catch up with Bearbane, followed closely by a disheveled looking Brok, his face blackened by soot and smeared with blood.

More fireballs lifted into the air behind the enemy lines to come crashing down mere seconds later. The forest echoed with the sounds of clashing steel and screaming wounded, punctuated by the dull thumping sound of discharging catapults and the roar of exploding missiles. But try as they might, the Dwarves could not dislodge the Karesh defenders from their lofty perch.

Bearbane had become stuck in the middle of the Dwarf attack, unable to move forward or backwards in the crush of heaving bodies. He watched as above him fireballs arched through the sky to land with a thump and a flash of flame, engulfing ten at a time. His army would be destroyed if he remained. With a heavy heart he filled his lungs and bellowed, 'Fall back! Retreat!'

As the Dwarves turned and ran, the crush lessened and Bearbane was able to extricate himself from the throng of heaving bodies just as Helfwen and Brok reached his side. 'Tis no good! That log-jam up top is causin' a bottleneck!' he shouted.

'Aye,' Helfwen agreed. 'Best pull back, for a while, and size it up. We'll have a better chance when the sun comes up!'

'How's the head, Major?' Bearbane asked Brok. 'You look a bit worse for wear.'

'Ran into a bole trying to avoid being incinerated,' he answered, wiping the blood from his brow.

'Well...you have to be alive to feel pain,' Bearbane smirked and winked. 'Come on; let's get out of range before the bastards get lucky.'

The Dwarves retreated to the sound of cheering Karesh and thumping catapults.

***

Dawn's light revealed the extent of the disastrous early morning attack. Scores of Dwarf bodies littered the ground in front of the barricade. Some bloodied while others were little more than dark forms, their flesh burnt to a crisp down to the bone.

A heavy pall of black smoke wafted on the slow breeze blackening faces and singeing lungs. King Kailbor of Timberland West arrived with his men just before noon, 'Couldn't wait could you, laddie?' he smirked, as he slapped Bearbane's back. 'From what I've heard, you've had your face slapped and your arse kicked,' he laughed. 'An' serves ya right for not waitin' for the rest of us, as agreed.'

'Go easy, highness,' Brok interjected, 'It was a nicely organised trap, and we fell right in. They've been nipping away at us for days. Ambush and run, ambush and run. They were drawing us out, baiting us, laying this trap.'

'Ack, he knows I'm only funnin', lad,' Kailbor laughed. 'There's not a better warrior this side of the lake. Me-self aside, of course,' he laughed and slapped Bearbane's shoulder again.

Bearbane smiled back, 'I'm not going to hear the end of this, am I?'

'Nay, lad. Not for a week or two, leastways,' Kailbor agreed.

Chapter 3. Manacle

'Wake up, bitch!' Lanak kicked Megan's legs. As cohort leader she had become his responsibility, a duty he cared little for. Large and heavily muscled, he stood wide-legged holding a bowl of steaming slop and a husk of blackloaf bread. 'Food! Eat or not...your choice,' he snarled, throwing the bread onto Megan's lap.

Megan coughed and sat up. 'Good morning, monster,' she said, greeting the Karesh warrior. Her ropes had been replaced by a leg manacle, chained to a large round boulder. It freed her hands for tasks such as eating, drinking, and washing, without compromising security.

Lanak placed the bowl before her, spilling half of the contents onto her mud-stained blankets. 'No smile today?' he taunted. 'Not so happy now, eh human?'

Megan pulled the bowl closer, dipping the stale bread into the vile brown mess without comment.

'Hah!' the Karesh grunted with satisfaction. 'Not so high-lady now, groveling in mud like bullhog snuffling scraps! Soon all your kind will do the same...or be dead! Dead is good too...better even!'

'How many days?' Megan asked without looking up from her food.

Lanak looked confused, 'Why matter?'

'Just wondering. Night-day, they slip by unnoticed, here in the dark. I've lost count,' she answered nonchalantly.

'Six,' he answered.

'Six days...it feels longer,' Megan said softly.

'Not much longer now before you are gone for good. And glad will I be to see you go,' Lanak added.

'What do you mean?'

'Preparations have been made; you leave tomorrow with the Warlock.'

'Lord Alsheer?' Megan inquired.

'Yes. His standing is great and we must obey, my general has ordered it. An infantry cohort will provide escort. There will be no escape for you, human,' he sneered, while shaking his head.

'Where is he taking me?'

'Out of this valley, many leagues...a long road for you, I think.'

'What's the destination?' she pushed.

'Our final dessstination isss Bal-Karesssh,' answered a sibilant voice from the direction of the door-flap.

Megan's head turned toward the familiar tone, 'Welcome to my humble abode, Lord Alsheer,' she nodded. 'You will forgive me if I do not rise. As you can see, you've caught me at dinner. Would you care to join me? I'm sure Lanak could find another cowpat at a pinch.'

'The food isss not to your liking?' Alsheer asked.

'No, my lord, it is not. But then, I'm not a horsefly.'

'How I have missssed your keen mind, highnessss,' his cold smile did not reach his eyes. 'The Karesssh are a harsssh people, pleassse try to forgive them.'

'Why are you taking me to Bal-Karesh?' she asked.

'To meet sssomeone.'

'Whom?'

'A very important perssson. Your future husssband.'

'My what?' Megan spluttered as her food went down the wrong way.

'Yesss, you are to be wed. Congratulationsss!' he smiled his cold smile again.

'What--?'

'To the Prince in Ssshade.'

Megan recoiled at the name. 'Never!'

'Why ever not, it isss a great honour? You will be empressss of the world!'

'I would rather die!'

'Not before your usefulnessss isss ssspent, my dear,' Alsheer said.

'My usefulness? What does that mean?'

'You will produce, highnessss.'

'Produce?'

'Offssspring! Heirsss! Once the dynasssty hasss been sssecured, you may do…asss you wisssh,' he laughed.

***

Lanak opened the tent flap early next morning and came trudging in with a key in one hand and a lamp in the other. 'Get up!' he scowled, kicking Megan’s legs.

'Not really a morning person, are you?' Megan huffed.

'Huh...?' Lanak looked confused.

'It's not important,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I'm really going to miss your cheery countenance, monster. What's wrong with you today?'

'I must lead your escort,' he answered glumly.

Megan laughed, 'No war and glory for poor Lanak then?'

'You have a noisy mouth...quieter with less teeth, I think!' he hissed, making a fist and stepping closer to Megan.

'And what happens to you when I start screaming?' Megan said, shuffling away quickly. 'What will Lord Alsheer do to you afterwards?' she continued.

Lanak hesitated for a moment to consider her words. Turning away in a huff, he unlocked Megan's chain, 'Don't push too far, human,' he scowled, reaching for Megan and dragging her out of the tent.

The morning air was cold and sharp. Grey mist covered the woodlands in an opaque web. Lord Alsheer's black-windowed carriage lay just ahead, a dark shapeless form in the foggy murk.

Lanak pushed the young woman in the carriage's general direction, 'Move!' he barked.

As Megan approached, the door swung open, 'Good morning, highnessss,' Alsheer's voice hissed from the darkened interior.

Megan hesitated. Lanak's shove hurled her forward to crash against the metal boarding steps. She crumpled to the ground clutching her bruised shins, 'Light above!' she cried out, wincing from the sharp pain.

'Easssy there!' Alsheer hissed, at the overzealous captain. 'Find mannersss or be though them!'

Fear crossed Lanak's face, 'Forgiveness, my lord, I try to help,' he said, bowing his head in supplication.

'Pleassse forgive the brute'sss heavy handsss, princessss, I will have him flayed before hisss men if it pleasesss you?'

Lanak's face went a lighter shade of green.

Megan scowled up at the hulking Karesh, 'That sounds very interesting, my lord. What exactly is involved in the procedure?' she smirked, enjoying Lanak's obvious discomfort.

'It providesss quite a delightful ssspectacle. It involvesss a general removal of the victim'sss ssskin usssing very sssharp knivesss. The bessst practitionersss can keep the victim alive through the entire processss. It is a mossst delightful sssight to behold,' he said, lost in a joyous reflective reverie. 'Afterwardsss the ssskin can be cured and mounted for disssplay if you ssso wisssh.'

Lanak looked visibly shocked, his slack-jawed expression a pitiful sight to behold.

Megan almost giggled as she stood, 'You have my attention, my lord. That would indeed be a sight to behold. Let me mull on it for a while... The entertainment, alone, would be welcome should the journey prove excessively tedious. I will give the matter long thoughts,' she added, teasingly.

'We have a meeting of mindsss, highnessss,' Alsheer's smile was evil personified.

Fear gripped Megan's heart at the sight. He was more creature than man, of the vilest kind.

A grey-skinned hand snaked towards the young woman, 'Let me help you aboard, highnessss,' he offered.