Contact
The Prince was awakened by rough hands hauling him to his feet. He ached alll over. Bandages, stiff and crusty from dried blood, covered his left hand where the stump of what had been a finger throbbed. His left eye socket had a similar wad of blood soaked bandages covering it. He could still taste blood in his mouth from where the tooth had been torn. He could not help running his tongue over the gap.
He glanced about and saw Tyrus and Valdemar. Both had identical wounds. Bandaged hands and eyes. Tyrus spat blood on the boots of a guard and glared defiantly at him with his one good eye.
Valdemar looked much worse. In addition to the wounds, he was pale, sweaty and shaking. The Prince moved over to Valdemar and put his arm around him protectively.
All three were herded out of the small chamber and led down torch lit corridors. They emerged into a large circular room filled with book-lined shelves, work benches and tables laden with scrolls, metal scraps and powders. An oddly geometric shaped crystal floated and rotated inside a glass tube. It glowed with an inner light. Strange metallic instruments lay scattered about the center table. And in the center of that table, on a black velvet cloth, lay three circular bands of metal each with a small blue gem inset.
A door opposite them opened and Alfax Deathchilde entered, hobbling on his gnarled cane. The snake coiled about the top hissed at the prisoners.
"Greetings to you, your Highness. I trust you stay with us has been pleasant." Without waiting for a response, Alfax picked up the first circle of metal and inspected it. He then passed his hands over the gem and spoke a few words of magic. The gem began to glow with an inner light.
"I have a gift for you, my young Prince," he said. "A very special gift." He leaned over and gently placed the circle of metal upon the Prince's brow.
As the cool metal touched his skin, the Prince's vision blurred and he was assaulted by a rush of images and sensations. Sights, sounds, smells, memories, emotions - all began to blur and merge. He was suddenly falling into an infinite well of blackness. All sense of direction was lost, all balance fled. He fought to keep his stomach under control. When the dizzying sensation faded, he felt that he was no longer alone. He was in some way outside of himself. Another place was before him. He could feel it, almost reach out and touch it. The pain of his wounds lessened as he concentrated on this other place, this other group of sensations, and so he decided to explore the other.
He was no longer sitting down at the table in Alfax's lab, but was in a large hall, strapping on armour. He could feel cold metal being pressed against the cloth that touched his skin. Distantly, he could hear the snorting and hooves of horses. Men chattered in the background. Blades were being sharpened. A strange pugent smell came to his nose. He looked about him and saw Valdemar and Tyrus, healthy and unwounded, putting on robes and armour, respectively. Confused, he took a step back to the first place, back to the lab. Sensations of both places came to him in a jumbled mix. Sights, sounds, sensations blurred. His mind reeled. Concentrating, he forced himself out of the other place and back to the here and now, back to the laboratory, back to the pain. Someone was talking back here. He opened his eyes and he was once again in the laboratory with the strange instruments. Tyrus and Valdemar, weary and wounded sat beside him. They too, wore headbands and seemed as confused as he.
"These headbands," Alfax was saying, "are now a part of you. You will be given the courtesy of remaining unbound to eat and tend to yourselves. But you will not touch the headbands or examine them. I will tolerate no indiscretions in this matter. Punishment will be severe. Wear them. That is all. If you remove the headband or tamper with it in any way... I promise you your pain will be exquisite. Do not test me on this matter."
He turned to the guards. "Take them away and guard them well." As the three were marched off, Heggul entered the room.
"My Lord, the Citadel commands you make contact with them at once."
Alfax rose and hobbled out of the lab. In his private chambers, he went immediately to the basin and summoned the magic. The water rose and formed in the image of Kalek.
"How many simulants are ready at this time?" asked Kalek.
"I have three which are in the final stages of metamorphosis and preparations are almost finished to begin working on the next batch."
"There will be no need, sorcerer. Three will have to do. We have just received word from our spy in Kitar. Death has claimed King Auric. The balance of power now centers on the role the Prince will play. Kitar will most likely attempt to locate the Prince with magic and send a group to intercept and escort the Prince's party back. It is imperative that the simulants we have are in position for such an interception and ready with an appropriate tale to tell. Once that is done, the Council of Sorcerers requests your presence here at the Citadel at once."
"All shall be made ready. I shall leave for the Citadel as soon as the simulants and their escort party leave."
Kalek bowed and the water fell back into the basin. Alfax turned and left. He had much to do.
Blind Sight
[Caspian's prophetic vision]
* * *
The warm fluid world that he had been floating in began to melt away. Consciousness slowly forced itself upon him and with great reluctance, Caspian became aware. He was laying on something, flat and soft, a bed of some kind. The air was warm and still. To his right, something bubbled. He could smell it - some kind of broth. And some one stood near the bubbling broth, he could hear them stirring. Caspian relaxed and reached out with his mind. He focused on the life energy. An aura coelesced for him. Human and male. Standing about ten feet away. Stirring something, a powder perhaps, into a mug of that steaming liquid.
With effort, Caspian lifted himself up and coughed. His ribs hurt and his head ached. He could feel bandages tugged at his skin. The man walked up and extended his hand. Caspian felt the steam blow by his face.
"Here. Drink this. It'll clear your head. Ease the pain."
Caspian took the offered cup and smelled. A pungent, meaty aroma met his nostrils. He drank and found it tasted better than it smelled. Gradually, his dizziness faded. and then it all started to come back. the War Hall. The arena. The challenge. The fight. The voice was familiar. The voice that had beaten him. Belisar.
"Don't worry, you're safe," the voice was saying. "We're still at the War Hall, in my office and I don't consider you an enemy. If I did, you'd be dead." He got up and started to pace slowly about, mapping out the dimensions of the room for Caspian. "I've seen the likes of you before... young warriors with little experience who think they've got something to prove."
Caspian shifted uncomfortably. He could feel Belisar's disapproving look.
"Why didn't you kill me?" Caspian asked.
"You fought like twenty men today. I'd give anything to have my men fight with the spirit you showed. And you've got some experience, I can tell. But that's not why you're here. You're blind, but you fight like a seeing man. You were able to tell my movements. You knew when I shifted my stance, when I leapt up on the table even when I landed behind you. And yet you bumped into the table. What manner of blindfighting is this?"
Merely a blind man paying attention to what his other senses tell him.
"No. I have seen other blind man move even fight. But what you did today went beyond listening and a practiced understanding of movement. How do you manage to see without seeing?"
"Why?"
Caspian felt a the cold tip of a sword pressed into his throat.
"Tell me." Belisar said softly.
Caspian nodded slowly and the swordtip was removed. Belisar sat down across from Caspian and waited.
Caspian cleared his throat and began. "Years ago I was a soldier in the Imperial forces. There was a border skirmish with Duthelm and and a battle." Caspian paused, considering how much to tell. He remembered that day. The summer heat, the confusion. That had been long ago. He had been young and scared for his life. Should he tell this man that he had fled the battle. No. "In the chaos, I was captured by a group of org. They were led by a goblin. The orgs took turns beating me, but it was the goblin that finally poked out my eyes with my own heated sword. I blacked out from the pain but was kicked back to consciouness. They were have tortured me to death. Of that I have no doubt."
"And?"
"I don't remember much after that. It's all a bit vague. Someone or something attacked. There was a terrible battle, I could hear the orgs dying... terrible deaths. The goblin worked its magic, but I could hear terror in his voice. He was torn to shreds. I crawled away and hid in a bush. The battle ended suddenly and it all was quiet. I don't know how long I stayed in that bush. I might have stayed there for hours, to scared to move. But, a voice called me out. It was a man. His name was Ventax.
"Ventax" Belisar repeated quietly, searching his memory.
'He was a wizard of some kind. He cleaned me up and healed me. All except for my eyes. He then took me with him. We travelled for many days and he took me to a place that he called Ankarus."
"Ankarus, never heard of it. Where is that?" Belisar stood up and moved over to a desk.
"I'm really not sure. We travelled on horse for almost a full sundrift. We travelled west mostly, for I remember the sun on my face at the end of each day. But I cannot say where it lies.”
"Belisar sat back down with a large book and began paging through it slowly. "Ankarus, Ankarus," he muttered to himself slowly. "I don't see it."
"I had not heard of it, either. But it was a wonderful place. Excellent food, fine music, soft beds and... skilled women. I stayed with Ventax for years. He taught me many things : he read to me and taught me to read with my hands by feeling the impressions on the page. He played music for me, taught me to play.
"But the fighting. What of the fighting skills."
"The fighting. As time passed I became more accustomed to moving about without sight. I listened more closely, visualized my surroundings in my head. Counted distances by the number of strides. My senses became more acute or atleast I was paying more attention to them.
"Of that I have no doubt. I've seen blind men play flutes, cook meals, wrestle. But down in that courtyard today, you did more than that. You saw! Without eyes! Somehow, you sensed my movements. When I lunged forth, to twisted, when I feinted right, you parried. How did you manage that?"
"Ventax's people were unlike any I had ever seen or have ever seen since. They live in harmony with nature in a way that I cannot describe. They speak with all living things. They see life and magic as one. To them, there is no difference. All living things have an energy within them. A luminous aura."
"So it's life you see?"
"Yes, life. I don't see them so much as sense them. All life, not just people, but animals and plants. I can smell the grass underfoot and hear it rustle in the wind, but I also know it."
"Know it?"
"It's difficult to describe. It isn't seeing or smelling or hearing, but its like all three together. I know the grass is there, healthy and in abundance and be sensing the grass and I can see the land stretching out before me."
"And this works on people as well, eh?"
"Yes. Each person has a distinctive aura. As unique to that person as his face. I can often pick out a person from a crowd just by their aura."
"Incredible. At what distance can you sense this "
"It not unlike a seeing man’s vision. The greater the distance, the less detail I discern. At about one hundred paces or so, all life energy blurs together into a warm glow."
Belisar stood and started pacing again. Caspian could sense him gesturing excitedly as he spoke.
"A warrior who can see without eyes," said Belisar. "Imagine, facing such a warrior in the dark. The average fighter wouldn't stand a chance. If I could learn to see without using my eyes, I'd be twice the fighter I am now. If I could teach it, warriors everywhere would flock to my banner. Do you think you could teach another to see people without seeing, the way you do?
"I... I don't know. I've.. never tried."
"I'd make it worth you're while. You said when you entered the courtyard that you wanted men. To reclaim a duchy. Wasn't that it?"
"Yes. The Duchy of Storming Glen.
"Storming Glen?" Belisar sounded taken off guard. Caspian perked up at this.
"You know of it?"
On the border of Kitar?
"Yes."
"I think there was a skirmish there not long ago." Belisar said slowly. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "A battle in that area, I think."
Caspian waited, sensing that Belisar knew more. But he said nothing.
"Do you like pheasant?" Belisar said suddenly.
"I do."
"Join me for dinner this evening. We can discuss your ability and your quest further. I am interested in both. Until then, you are welcome here as a guest of the Warriors Guild. You may use any of the equipment, spar with the men and help yourself to the food and wine. "
"You have my thanks. I would be honored to join you for dinner tonight.
"Good. Then I'll see you tonight. Take this." Belisar placed something small and metal in Caspian's hand. "It is the standard of the Warrior's Guild. Show that to any city guide and there'll show you to my house for free. I shall await your timely arrival upon the seventh hour.
Caspian gathered his weapons from the table and left. He couldn't help wondering if Lady Fate had just blessed him or not.
The High Council
A heavy oak door opened. Garamand and Darian entered a small round chamber. In the center of the room was a large circular table of deeply stained ironwood. It's rich brown luster glistened wetly as it reflected the light of the crackling fire of a stone hearth in the opposite wall. Above the stone hearth hung a small black and white tapestry, the traditional eagle, tree and rock standard of Kitar.
Eight men, their faces tired and unshaven, ceased their conversation and looked up to watch Darian and Garamand take their seats. Of twelve large oak and leather chairs about the table, two were still empty.
Clarys, a pot bellied, grey haired man, looked about the table at the others. He didn't like this uncomfortable silence and would rather get down to business.
"The King?" he asked simply, directing his question to Garamand.
Garamand bowed his head slowly, unable to meet the questioning stares of the others.
Darian slowly shook his head. "Auric has passed on."
"Barrinor preserve us." said one of them.
Belisar, still weary and aching from his battle with Caspian, grunted his acknowledgement indicating neither surprise nor dismay. He had little emotional involvement for the royal family.
Saurell sat quietly with an air of calm about him, starring off into space. He accepted the King's death with a cold and detached logic, unable to allow himself to feel, lest his emotions take over and he lose control.
The others muttered quietly amoungst themselves, not sure what this turn of events would mean.
"And to think that the Kingdom suffers such a loss on the brink of war," stated Calys.
"Which is exactly why the military should be placed in a position of power, if only temporarily," said Belisar. "We must maintain a strong military posture toward Duthelm. Any fluctuation will be considered a sign of weakness and vulnerability to attack".
The table erupted in conversation, everyone talking at once.
"Order, please, order," cried Darian. "Let us not jumpt to action. Melkran, what exactly are we up against?"
A tall man with weather worn skin and long dark hair sat up and addressed the group. "My border patrols have witnessed a steady increase in border activity along the Duthelmian border. We've seen some troop movements and a handful of skirmishes and raids along bordering towns. We've also had several sightings of something new."
"Something?"
"I'm not sure what to call it. A little over a month, one of our patrols came upon a border raid in progress. The patrol swooped in to offer aid to the village militia. Amoung the Duthelmian troops were the usual assortment of garbage, a mixture of humans, orgs, a handful of goblins and atleast one trolkyn. But there was something new."
"You keep saying that," said Belisar.
Melkran coughed, obviously uncomfortable with what he had to say. "Fighting with the Duthelmians were a dozen or so creatures that I've never seen before. They were humanoid, about the size and shape of a typical org, but grey skinned and with a bestial face. They each had an armoured spinal ridge running down the back, a heavy set bony brow, deep set eyes, no hair at all. Odd armour too, heavy and plated, but rough, like shell. Both weapons and armour seemed to be made out of this material, some sort of dark grey shell.
"Aberrants?" wondered Clarys.
"I don't think so," responded Melkran. "Aberrants are, by their very nature, unique creatures. And aberrants tend to be loners, drifters. These creatures were all identical. What's more, they were organized, aggressive and fought together using tactics meant to take advantage of their numbers, like a squad of the King's finest."
"Perhaps a new breed of org?" suggested Saurell.
"I wouldn't know. I am not versed in such things," admitted Melkran. "But it seems to me I've never seen a species change so quickly before."
"What if they're magical in nature?" asked Garamand quietly. "Certainly we've seen Duthelm toy with life, manipulate it with magic. They've done all kinds of gruesome experiments on creatures and prisoners alike within that accursed Citadel of theirs. I know. I've seen some of the deformities first hand."
"That seems more likely," said Nolken, the King's Magus. "Duthelm magical experimentation is simply a historical fact, especially in wartime and the Black Sorcerers of Duthelm often summon creatures from the nether regions. Perhaps they've summoned these creatures. A breed of demons."
"All I know is these creatures bleed and they die," said Melkran, "but not easily. In the last encounter, it took myself and four other warriors together to bring down just one of these things. Reports and sightings are becoming more frequent. These creatures are strong, fast and difficult to kill. Duthelm is either creating them or allied with a large group of them. I'd estimate that Duthelm's got at least a hundred of them."
Suddenly the table was buzzing with conversation.
"Troop movements."
"And now these atrocities."
"This suggests a prelude to war."
"A second war with Duthelm?"
"I repeat," said Belisar, "the military should occupy the throne in a state of war."
"The emperor may wish to dispute that," said Pyrien. As the Imperial Ambassador, he took offense to anyone stepping on the Emperor's (and his) authority. "He may select a temporary rule for Kitar from amoung the High Council or rule indirectly through a representative."
"Hmph! That would be you."
"Why, yes it would."
"Gentlemen," said Darian, "before we start battling over our own throne, perhaps we should look to the rightful heir, the Prince."
Belisar grunted again. "Little more than a boy."
"Regardless of his age, he is the Heir Apparent and by Kitaran law he is old enough to take the throne," defended Saurell.
"The Prince's party is overdue. They should have been back a week ago."
"Considering the frequency of storms in the North Sea, I hardly find that surprising. It's quite possibly that they had to find a port to weather out a storm. Nolken, would you be able to find the Prince with magic."
"Perhaps distance and direction, but little else."
"That will suffice. I suggest we allow Nolken to locate the prince. and prepare some magical means of conveyance to transport Belisar and a small group of soldiers to the Prince's location and escort the Ambassidorial team home. Upon the Prince's return, we can conduct the King's Funeral and then the Prince can undergo the Rite of Ascension. Can we proceed with Ascension upon his return, Saurell?"
"Not immediately. Because the King died prematurely, the Ruling Artifacts of Kitar are still bonded to him. They will need to be purified and cleansed of the King's aura before the Prince may bond with them. I would say the Rite of Ascension can be made ready for the Prince within twelve days."
"Very well," said Erlon, the City Master. "Those in favor of Darian's plan, vote with the black pebble. Those opposed, with the white."
Each man withdrew a velvet pouch and placed a pebble within it, being careful to let no one see the color of his stone. All the pouches were then gathered up and passed to Erlan who emptied the pouches onto the table in front of him for all to see. Seven white pebbles and three black.
"Very well," said Erlon. "We shall proceed along Darian's recommended course of action. Pyrien, please make contact with the Emperor and inform him of our intentions."
Pyrien nodded his agreement and the group dispersed.
This page last updated Wednesday, December 24, 2008. Copyright 1990-2009 David M. Roomes.