Dark King Of The North (Book 3) (7 page)

“Not quite fit for a king, but it will do.” Fortisquo plopped himself and his bag of gear onto a cushion-laden couch.

Belgad followed with the others, all of their eyes darting about while a Kobalan soldier remained in the hall and closed the door behind them. Three of Belgad’s personal guards stayed at attention near the exit while the other planted an unconscious Adara on the ground in a corner.

“At least we won’t be sleeping under the stars tonight,” Fortisquo commented as he planted his booted feet on a maroon divan.

The sorceress Karitha turned Belgad. “What is your next move?”

The large northerner turned his hard eyes on the red-haired woman. “We wait, and we hope Verkain will see us.”

“Why shouldn’t he?” Fortisquo said from his spot on the couch. “After all, we’ve been allied with the man since we left Bond.”

Belgad took a hardback, wooden chair near the fire. “No one allies themselves with someone of Verkain’s power. You
serve
him.”

Fortisquo smirked. “I serve no one but my own pocketbook.”

“Then you are likely to be the first he will kill,” Belgad said.

Fortisquo scoffed.

“Belgad is right,” Karitha said, taking a seat on the end of a couch. “We have to be wary of what we say and do. Verkain has no need to slay us, but that doesn’t mean he won’t.”

“So far we’ve proven somewhat useful to him,” Belgad said, continuing Karitha’s line of talk. “If it stays that way, we will stay alive.”

“I’m still not sure why we came here in the first place,” Fortisquo said. “It’s as if you’ve given up hope of finding Darkbow and the healer.”

“We were nearer to here than to home,” Belgad explained, “and I wasn’t about to return without the heads of our enemies.”

“According to the book of Ashal, pride is a sin,” commented Fortisquo.

“So is bashing in your skull,” Belgad shot back.

The one-eyed rapirist gave a mock frown, as if disappointed more than afraid.

“Besides, we can fulfill our mission by working for Verkain,” Belgad went on, “and it might benefit us. He is insane, but that doesn’t mean he won’t reward those who serve him well.”

“You don’t even know why he wants this son of his,” Fortisquo said.

“Adara told me her theories, but it doesn’t matter,” Belgad said. “I’m not sure I want him alive either after what happened in Bond.”

A knock sounded at the door and Belgad motioned for one of his guards to answer. When the door opened, Captain Lendo and three of his men appeared in the entrance.

“Lord Verkain expects your presence on the morrow,” the captain said. “Belgad Thunderclan and whatever servants he desires will be sent for breakfast at nine bells.”

“How pleasant,” Fortisquo said.

Captain Lendo closed the door, leaving the travelers from Bond to themselves once more.

“Of course, I’m not sure we should eat anything,” Fortisquo remarked.

***

Adara’s eyes fluttered, then a brightness forced her lids closed once more. Gradually she opened her orbs again, allowing her surroundings to encroach upon her vision.

She was on a soft, silky bed in a room, obviously one belonging to nobility. The light bothering her eyes came from the sun shining through tall glass windows, the heavy curtains having been tied back.

“You’re awake,” a man said.

Adara turned her head to her left, finding one of Belgad’s chain-clad guards sitting in a cushioned chair next to an open doorway. Otherwise the room was empty.

“Belgad and Fortisquo and the wizard woman have gone to see Verkain,” the man said.

Adara tested her hands and found her wrists still tied together. She shifted her feet to discover ropes also bound her ankles. “How long have I been out?”

“Several days,” the warrior said. “Belgad didn’t want to chance you escaping before we got here. The wizard knows her sleep spells.”

Adara gripped her hands to her tight stomach. “No wonder I’m so hungry.”

The burly man leaned back in his chair and turned his head to glance into the open doorway. “Mountain, get your tail in here. The wench is up. Bring her food and drink.”

He eased down in the seat to face Adara again. His smile was that of a snake.

“What’s going to happen to me?” she asked, noticing the sword and dagger on a thick belt around his waist.

“Don’t know,” the man said. “That’s probably what Lord Belgad’s going to find out this morning.”

Another big fellow, also wearing a chain shirt, entered the room with a wood tray in his hands. Atop the platter was a small bowl, an iron spoon and a cup.

“Swing your legs over and sit up,” the chaired soldier said to Adara.

The woman did as she was told and watched the other man place the tray on the bed next to her. She stared at the meal, porridge and water, then held her tied wrists up. “I can’t eat like this.”

“You’re going to have to,” the standing guard said before exiting the room.

Adara stared at the porridge again, this time taking note of the steam rising off the bowl’s contents. She glanced at the sitting guard; he was watching, but relaxed.

Adara turned to one side and reached for the bowl. She found the wooden vessel hot to the touch as she lifted it.

“Do you want some?” She held the bowl out for her warden.

“Already ate,” he said. “You go right ahead and —”

The steaming gruel slapped him in the eyes. He screamed, his hands reaching to his face. Adara pushed off the bed onto her knees next to him. He tried to stand, but the woman slammed a doubled fist into his groin. He shrieked, then fell back in the seat with a cry.

Adara yanked his dagger from its sheath. Her fingers flipped the blade around, the apex now in her direction, and sawed at the leather thongs binding her hands.

“What in Ashal?” a new voice said.

Adara looked up to see another of Belgad’s goons in the doorway.

The bindings around her wrists fell away.

The new guard barreled in.

Her feet still tied, Adara vaulted up and dropped back on the bed, kicking out to connect with the charging man’s chin. He went sprawling backward next to his moaning partner.

Adara sat up, slicing at the straps on her ankles.

Rough hands grabbed her by the hair and yanked.

Her head forced back, her eyes locked on the angered face of the man she had burnt.

He swung a fist around, hammering Adara’s chin and sending her rolling back on the bed.

She found her mind fighting the jumble of pain and disorientation that throbbed throughout her skull, but she forced herself to sit up, holding the dagger out in front.

Another punch sent her down again.

This time, Adara did not come up.

***

Breakfast was served in a garden open to the skies.

Despite the bleakness of the granite walls in the center of the castle, Belgad admired the surrounding greenery and the flowering plants that reminded him of his own gardens in his mansion in Bond. He walked along a maroon gravel path between the plants, sometimes pausing to stare at a particular flower he found fascinating or reaching out to feel the smooth texture of leaves.

Following the Dartague were Fortisquo and Karitha.

The three were led by a bald servant in a blue gown and two soldiers in black to the center of the garden, a large circle made up of more gravel. In the middle of the area was an oval iron table surrounded by four chairs with pillows on the seats. In the center of the table sat a silver tray covered with various sliced fruits, four glass goblets filled with what looked to be a red wine or juice and a small bronze platter stacked with sliced dark bread.

“A simple meal,” Fortisquo commented before taking one of the seats.

“Lord Verkain?” Belgad asked of the servant.

“He will be along shortly, sir.” The man in the gown waved a hand over the chairs. “If you will be seated, my lord will arrive soon.”

Belgad did not appear happy to wait, but he and Karitha sat.

“Please enjoy your breakfast,” the servant said, then left with the two Kobalan guards marching behind him.

Fortisquo watched them go. “He leaves no guards to watch us.” He reached for a slice of apple.

“What need would he have?” Karitha said. “It’s not as if we could easily escape.”

“Escape isn’t our goal,” Belgad said. “We are here to come to an agreement.”

Fortisquo chewed on his apple, then swallowed. “It seems to me we have little with which to bargain.” His fingers found another piece of fruit.

Belgad’s steady gaze fell on the swordsman. “It is not as if I am without power within West Ursia. Think of this as a meeting between entrepreneurs. We could open many doors for Kobalos in Bond.”

“That’s if we aren’t killed first,” Karitha said.

Before Belgad could berate the woman, the group’s attention was drawn to a tall figure approaching along the gravel path.

Belgad moved as if to stand, but Lord Verkain cut him short. “Please, keep your seat.”

All eyes were upon the Lord of Kobalos, and all were impressed with what they saw. Verkain was pale and with nearly the bulk of Belgad, though he stood a foot taller than the big Dartague. His eyes were a piercing blue so sharp they seemed to glow, and it felt as if they bored into the soul when one looked into them. Verkain’s dark gray hair was long and tied with a leather cord in a tail behind his head; streaks of white flowed from his temples to mix with the rest of his straight tresses. He wore long black robes with a high collar that kept his chin supported. A broad ring of gold bearing the mark of Verkain’s royalty, a black fist with points on the knuckles, boldly encircled a finger on his left hand.

Belgad realized the master of this gray land appeared almost exactly as he would have predicted. All that was missing were accompanying demons or gargoyles.

Verkain pulled one of the iron chairs from the table and sat with ease, his eyes flashing from one newcomer to another. “Why are you here?”

Karitha gave Fortisquo and Belgad a nervous glance.

The large, bald northerner looked unsettled. “I would have thought that was obvious. We are open to trade relations with Kobalos.”

“Trade?” Verkain asked. “You came her seeking coin?”

“We came here seeking a mutual alliance,” Belgad said. “After our recent relations with your lordship, I would have thought there would be good will between us, allowing an opening for trade, if nothing else.”

“You represent your government?” Verkain asked.

Belgad shook his head. “I am here on private enterprise.”

“Trade with Kobalos is illegal without permission of your Ruling Council.”

Belgad grinned. “I have ways of dealing with the Ruling Council.”

Verkain’s face remained stoic. “I have no need of your money, nor your goods.”

“Trade with the West could open opportunities beyond economic,” Belgad said. “I can also offer a political link.”

“I have no need of your talkative, democratic bureaucrats,” Verkain said. “True power lies not in politics, nor in commerce. True power relies upon inner will.”

Belgad’s eyebrows furrowed.

“You do not understand,” Verkain said. “ That is to be expected. You are a barbarian, though not without promising tenacity. True power lies within oneself, and what one can accomplish through the will of others.”

Karitha snickered.

“I find nothing comical.” Verkain turned his eyes upon the woman.

Karitha lowered her gaze. “My apologies, my lord. Your precept is similar to my own minor studies of the laws of glamour.”

“I also did not give you permission to speak,” Verkain said. “I only suffer Lord Belgad’s vocal intrusions because he is nobility, and because I asked of him a question.”

“Allow me to apologize for my servant,” Belgad offered.

Verkain’s eyes returned to the Dartague, but now his gaze was harder, harsher. “It would seem a display of my veracity is in order.”

“We do not question you,” Belgad said.

Verkain’s gaze shifted again to Karitha. “Die.”

The woman’s head shot up, her eyes wide with fear.

“Karitha?” from the Dartague.

The woman slumped in her seat, her eyes closing and her chest no longer rising.

A grin slid across Fortisquo’s lips.

“What have you done?” Belgad asked Verkain, his voice tight.

“A demonstration,” the king said. “It is time you learned with whom you are dealing, Belgad Thunderclan. I do not need your money nor your politics. I am in need of nothing from you. I am so near the fruition of my own goals, I can taste them as your man there tastes the apple upon his tongue. In a matter of days I will begin works I have been planning for centuries.”

“We came here in good faith,” Belgad said. “We brought you a gift, the woman Adara Corvus. I thought you could use her to capture your son.”

“Kerwin has already been apprehended,” Verkain said. “I have no need of your prisoner. However, I will take her, and I will have her crucified in front of the entrance to my city, so all can see the futility in waging rebellion against me.”

Fortisquo’s grin died, leaving behind a look of shock and regret.

“What of us, then?” Belgad asked, nodding at Fortisquo. “Are we to be slain, too?”

“You are a mighty warrior, and a leader of men,” Verkain said. “I can use you in my armies. Your fancy companion also has skill, and he may join you.”

“This is not why we came here,” Belgad dared to voice.

“Your initial intentions are of little interest to me,” Verkain said. “I have waited long enough for Kerwin to return home, and now he is here. The world is in motion about me, and I have a new use for you. Do you question it?”

For a moment Fortisquo’s lips parted as if he were about to comment, but a slight shake of Belgad’s head told the swordsman to remain silent.

“Good,” Verkain said, “then your first commission will be to hunt down the wizard Markwood and this Kron Darkbow person.

“This meeting is ended.”

Chapter Eight

The men dug. The trench was long and deep and full of rocks, and the sun above was hot. To make their labor all the more difficult, the men’s tools were short military picks taken from their packs and wooden shovels they had carved themselves then hardened in flame.