eardrops of water seeped from the dungeon's ceiling, forming puddles and pools on the stone floor. The odor of urine tainted the air, along with the dank smell of rot and mildew. Plump rats wandered from cell to cell, helping themselves to food left by sick and wounded prisoners.
A man in a black hood paced the corridor between the rows of barred cubicles, tapping a coiled whip against one thigh. He stopped and peered through the bars whenever he saw a motionless captive. "You dead?" he'd ask. If he received a reply, he grunted and moved on, but if silence greeted his query, the jailer laughed and unlocked the door. A swift kick from a booted foot determined if the man merely slept. No response meant that the body was slung across a broad shoulder, carried out of the cell, and down the corridor. "More fodder for the bone pit! More fodder for the bone pit!" the jailer chanted while leering at the still living prisoners.
King Morion the Third of Aldoria huddled in a corner of one of the cells, clad in the tattered remnants of a blue velvet robe. Dried blood matted his gray hair and beard, as well as the bandages wrapped around his right leg. His voice quavered while he addressed the rats dining on the remains of his morning meal. "It was terrible...So very terrible. Burning bodies...Smoke and ashes." He paused and drank from the dented tin cup he'd been holding on his lap. "Ah, that's better," he mumbled, licking his lips.
But his eyes were still glassy as he looked at the feasting rats once again. "My people were stacked like cordwood...Hundreds of them. Pyre after pyre filled Holy Square where they'd once gathered for festivals." Morion's hand suddenly clenched around the cup. "The Black Knights laughed as they watched the flames...They laughed, the murdering bastards!" He flung the cup at the rats, splashing more water onto the floor, and tiny feet skittered into the shadows. "Oh, what cruel laughter," he whispered. "My poor, helpless subjects. Forgive me...Please forgive me." The king covered his face with trembling hands, and slumped against the wall of his prison.
An echo of footsteps came from the stairway spiraling to the castle above. The hooded jailer stopped pacing and cracked his whip. "All right, you miserable turds," he said, glaring at the pale faces behind the bars. "Company's coming, so I don't want any cussing or spitting." He laughed, and then snapped the whip again. "And I don't want to hear any farting either."
Six knights in polished steel armor and ebony surcoats appeared at the bottom of the stairs, escorting a young man with flowing black hair. The knights came to a halt, but Kier Palamedes, one of the Overlord's five Military Marshals, swaggered forward, a white handkerchief delicately pressed to his nose.
The jailer hastily coiled his whip, then knelt and bowed his head. "Good day to you, Lord Marshal."
"Yes, yes," Kier's muffled voice said. "Where's Morion?"
"Here, my lord." Keys rattled while the jailer unlocked the door to the king's cell. "He's been a good prisoner. Spends his time weeping and talking to the rats."
Kier peered into the dimly lit cubicle, and his emerald-green eyes suddenly widened. "Vorn! Is he dead?"
"Oh, he's very much alive. Didn't you see him cringe just now?"
"No, I didn't, you fool. Bring him here."
"At once, my lord."
"Get your filthy hands off of me!" Morion cried as he was hauled to his feet.
"Behave yourself, old turd. You have an important vistor."
The king's attempt to break the jailer's grip failed, and he was relentlessly dragged toward the cell door. "Black-hearted wretch! Don't you know who I am?"
Kier snickered behind the handkerchief. "You mean who you were, don't you?"
Morion glared at the young man, and then spat on the floor. "You! What further torments do you intend for me?" He was abruptly shoved to his knees, but he ignored the jailer and stared up at Kier with slitted eyes. "Your efforts to torture their whereabouts from me will fail yet again. I'll never tell you where Anterion and Dakon are."
"Relax, old dog. I'm not here about your renegade son and that wily wizard." Kier snickered once again. "The Lord General wants to see you."
A chill swept over Morion's body. "What...What does he want with me?"
"He has a very special treat planned for you. Be a good fellow, and don't make a fuss while I take you to him." Kier waved a hand languidly; two knights promptly sprang forward and grabbed the king's arms.
Morion wept as he was marched up the stairway and out into Guardian Castle's courtyard. The brightness of the sun instantly forced his eyes shut, increasing the flow of tears down his face. He blinked rapidly, and his vision at last cleared, revealing a mounted company of Black Knights armed with lances. You murdering bastards! he thought with a bitterness born of despair. May you all roast in the lowest pit of Hell.
A two-wheeled cart waited near the knights, along with two men in the simple garb of servants. One of the men stepped forward and handed a hooded cloak to Kier.
The marshal's lips curled as he draped the black shroud over Morion's shoulders. "You really disgust me," he whispered. "I'll be so delighted when you're finally dead."
Morion said nothing.
Kier chuckled, and then nodded to the servants.
They seized the king and hauled him into the back of the cart. He groaned while his arms were bound behind his back, and gasped when a thick loop of rope was coiled around his neck.
"Let's go!" Kier shouted, leaping into his warhorse's silver-studded saddle. The Black Knights obediently formed a cordon around the cart and escorted it from the castle. Kier trotted to the side of the creaking vehicle, a smug smile creasing his face.
Morion turned his head away, wanting with all his heart to slap the smirk from the young man's face. Oh, if only I had the strength! The cart shuddered over the cobblestones of the castle causeway, jarring a series of moans from the king. If only....
A towering gateway blackened by fire stood on the opposite side of Guardian Castle's moat. Beyond the portal lay the broken heart of Aldoria's war-shattered capital. Morion's shoulders sagged as he gazed at the vacant-eyed buildings lining the streets of Haven. "Forgive me, my good people," he suddenly shouted, shrugging back the hood of the cloak. "I could no longer...defend you."
"Be quiet," Kier snapped. "There's no one to hear you."
"Because you killed them all! And then burned them."
Kier tossed a stray strand of hair from his face, and then sighed. "Ah, it was such a lovely sight. Roasting flesh always makes the best bonfire."
"You monster!"
A Black Knight charged to the cart and drove the butt of his lance into Morion's back.
"And you've got a rope around your neck," Kier said as the king collapsed on the bed of the cart. "Remember that and keep your mouth shut until we get to the square."
"So that's where we're going," Morion muttered. "Holy Square...Another funeral pyre will be lit after I'm hanged." Kier glared at him, but he straightened his shoulders and peered between the servants perched on the driver's bench.
The cortege approached a section of the city scarred by massive destruction. Walls leaned precariously against one another, and bricks and charred timbers littered the street. The cart and its escort detoured into a side street, then turned again into a broad avenue less cluttered with debris.
The avenue came to an end at a vast, stone-paved plaza. A fountain stood in the center of Holy Square, but water no longer spouted into its marble basin. The Azure Palace, home to Aldoria's monarchs, occupied one side of the square, its blue-tinted facade marred by only minor damage. A silver dragon with a coiled tail snarled from the banner of Lord General Malakar Marrisante, fluttering atop the palace gateway beside the featureless black flag of the Overlord.
But it was the numerous heaps of ash scattered about the square that squeezed Morion's eyes shut. The odor of wood-smoke and the stench of burnt flesh lingered in the air, assaulting his nostrils. "Eriana, why did you no longer hear our prayers for deliverance?" he whispered, easing his eyes open and gazing toward the colonnaded temple beyond the fountain. "My kingdom is in ruins and...What the hell's going on?"
Dozens of Bullmen slaves and their human overseers stood at the base of the temple staircase, near a wooden ramp that had been placed over the marble steps. A bulky object hidden by a canvas shroud rested not far away, guarded by a company of dismounted Black Knights.
"The Lord General will tell you all about it," Kier said. "And here he comes."
The cart squeaked to a halt. Morion glanced wildly about the square, and then his eyes were halted by the horsemen trotting through the Azure Palace's gate. "It's the devil himself," he muttered. "And his loyal companion, Godwyn."
"Shut your mouth," said the servant holding the rope. "Get yourself up and come with me." He jerked the rope, bringing a choked cry from the king.
Morion stumbled from the cart, wincing as he fell to his knees. The servant seized one of his arms and frog-marched him to Kier's side.
"Kneel to the conqueror of Aldoria," Kier commanded. When the king failed to obey, the marshal planted a booted foot in his back and shoved him to his knees. "Good morning to you, Lord General. I trust you slept well last night."
"Like a babe," a deep voice said. "Your bed is most comfortable, Morion."
Morion shivered at the laughter that followed the remark, then slowly raised his eyes to the face of Malakar Marrisante. A black patch covered the general's left eye, but the other, as blue as a sapphire, coldly regarded him. "Enjoy it while you can," the king said, desperately trying not to show his fear.
"Ha! A whipped dog always finds a way to fight back," Kier said, laughing once again.
Morion lowered his head and sighed. "You're going to kill me anyway."
"Not yet," Lord Malakar said. He smoothed his silver hair with one gloved hand, and then smiled. "There's something I want you to see first." He kicked his heels into his horse's flanks and trotted across the square, closely followed by his blond companion.
Kier snatched the rope from the servant and gave it a sharp tug. "Come along, old dog. You're going to be so surprised."
Morion silently staggered after the grinning marshal.
Lord Malakar halted before the temple and nodded to one of the overseers. The man snapped his whip, and a team of Bullmen obediently dragged the shroud away from the hidden object.
Morion gasped when the mystery was finally revealed. "No...It can't be."
"Ah, but it is," Lord Malakar said. "Behold Vorn, Lord of Chaos and the Eternal Darkness."
A statue of ebony stone rested on a wheeled platform. Long curving horns sprouted above a snarling face, and one clawed hand was raised as if the god held something up in triumph. The light of the sun failed to sparkle on the idol's cold surface.
Morion quickly turned his eyes away. "All right! I've seen it. Kill me now." Fresh tears straggled down his cheeks. "Please."
"You're far too eager to die," Lord Malakar said. "Wait...There's more for you to see." He nodded to the overseer again, and the man's whip cracked once more.
The Bullmen grunted as they hauled on the ropes attached to the platform, hooved feet straining against Holy Square's pavement. The idol began to move.
"Anterion will return," Morion said over the rumble of the wheels. "And drive you and your foul army back into the obscurity from whence you all came."
The general's smile deepened. "Godwyn, my friend. Tell him our surprise."
The mustached man beside him also smiled. "We've discovered your son's hiding place."
"What?" Please, Eriana! Let it not be so. "How did you--"
"That's not for you to know. I'll only say that Anterion is in Marburg, boring the Mar Republic's leaders with his dream of taking back Aldoria."
It's true then...Oh, but it can't be! "What are you going to do?"
"Find Dakon as well," Lord Malakar said. "The reward for him is quite high...So it's simply a matter of time."
"He'll never open the gates of Maldonia for you. Never!"
"Oh, but he will. It's a pity you won't be there to see it." Lord Malakar's face grew grim as he directed his attention to the temple. "The Lord of Chaos demands vengeance against those who oppose him. You needn't worry, however. Your beloved son's head will soon be joining yours...In the new temple of Vorn."
The king's eyes widened as he followed the general's gaze. "NO! You can't do this!"
"Yes, he can, old dog," Kier said. He jerked the rope, sending Morion sprawling to the pavement.
"Damn it, Kier! If you've broken his neck...."
"I didn't kill him, my lord. I only--"
"Shut up, marshal." Lord Malakar hastily dismounted, and knelt at Morion's side. He grabbed the king's hair and raised his limp head, turning it toward the temple. "Look! Look at the triumph of Chaos."
Morion somehow found the strength to obey. A moan bubbled from his bruised throat at the sight of the idol slowly moving up the ramp. Priests in hooded black robes awaited the god's arrrival, kneeling on either side of the gilded temple doors; doors that for centuries had led to the sanctuary of Eriana, goddess of Life and the Healing Light. A dark void now lay beyond the entranceway, lit by a pulsing bloody glow. The king felt his strength draining away. "The Light...is gone."
"The Eternal Darkness reigns in Aldoria," Lord Malakar said. "On the Night of the Horned Moon, you will become part of it...When your heart is ripped from your body on my god's altar."
Morion stared into the icy blue eye, and then fainted.
© Copyright 2000. Jan Davis
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