Siege of Night (7 page)

Colorful birds fluttered about as the constant crackling of the foamy waterfall spraying fine mist into the air proved to be ever so soothing. A gentle breeze lightly rattled the tops of tropical trees. The subtle thumps of fresh fruit landing on soft, damp grass were audible only to Dragot’s sensitive ears.

This was just what he needed after being handed a crippling defeat at the hands of the Gate Keeper: a soothing break, so obviously well deserved. He watched as the foot-long goldfish swam along slowly, not trying to get anyplace in particular but getting there anyway, then turning around once more just to go nowhere in particular yet again.

Dragot dipped another piece of bread into the narrow, wooden chute running right past his flat, pig-like snout. He popped it into his tusked mouth quickly before the fresh juice dripped all over. Licking his clawed fingers, he began to contemplate just what had gone wrong with his perfect plan, not taking responsibility for any of the unseen complications, of course. His plan had been perfect! The fact that these black, winged creatures could not make good on the basic, simple instructions given to their feeble minds had nothing to do with any flaws in his plan. It had just been a case of simple- minded creatures unable to deliver.

Addel’s betrayal in aiding the Gate Keeper could not possibly have been predicted. To think, after how well he had treated her! How dare she help the humans who had turned their back on her so many years ago? How dare she betray him after all he had done for her? A few deep breaths were all it took to calm him down once more. These were nothing but unforeseen setbacks that merely delayed the inevitable.

And those worthless humans…to think he had kept them alive all this time just to have them fail at the most menial of tasks. Now
this
thought stirred something deep inside the demon. To use the puppeteers to control the weak-minded beings had been his fiendish plan. There really was nowhere else to pass blame for their failure. But just as fast as the fleeting thought had occurred to him, it was pushed from his mind just as easily.

“Besides,” he said to no one as he looked up. “The incompetent flesh bags who remained behind have surely paid for the failures of their brethren.”

Several thin humans hung high above him, crucified onto wooden crosses as fresh blood flowed down into the wooden chute laid out before him. A few were still alive and twitching with their eyes wide open, but all were too weak to even moan, yet alone scream.

Dragot took his last piece of bread and mashed it against the chute greedily, trying to get every drop of human blood before shoving it down his throat. He licked his clawed fingers once more before turning to go back into the dark, crystal tower. Easily moving through the secret passage built into the side panel, he slid it shut behind him, leaving behind no trace of its existence.

The demon glided across the shiny black floor, admiring his reflection as the distorted wavy image gazed back up at him. His long, green and red robe lined with white lace hung loosely as it dragged across the spotless floor. There was not a single speck of dust anywhere to pose a threat to his elaborate garment. He floated on in long strides with his head high and hands clasped behind his back in a confident stride fit for a king. Of course, that was how he viewed himself.

He slowed up a bit while a handful of briggits scampered out of the way as he turned the corner. Of course, he couldn’t care less if he stepped on one; that was hardly the reason for his suddenly listless pace. He would eventually have to go to his private chambers once again to contact Krytoes.

This was a task he never looked forward to under any circumstances, especially on the heels of a handful of
minor
failures, none of which were his fault, but he couldn’t be sure Krytoes would adhere to that obvious fact.

Regardless of whether Krytoes thought this little setback was his fault or not, he needed the fiend’s help once more. It was clear that relying on these inferior beings to achieve anything was pointless. This was something Dragot would have to do himself. But, as had always been the case, his abilities with using the magical arts, whether elemental or traditional, were too limited to comfortably aid him.

This was silently yet another reason Dragot hated humans so much. The simple fact that the inherited magical benefits of having the blood of a greater being somehow did not manifest properly within him was obviously the fault of the weak human blood that coursed through his veins. There could to be no other explanation. Dragot could not deny that he
did
dwell on this little reality from time to time.

When he was first created centuries ago, the notion had been simple. Krytoes knew the planets would be aligned one day, and the power of the stars would finally allow him to cross into the world of men. But he would need someone working for him from within that realm. To crossbreed a demon and human seemed a logical choice, as the cross would produce someone who would at least have
some
understanding of how humans thought and why they did the things they did; someone whose body could handle the elements of the human world: be able to breathe the air, drink the water and such.

The hybrid would also retain all the benefits of demon blood as well: nearly eternal life, magical abilities, and being able to communicate through gateways. But it seemed Dragot fell a bit short in some of these categories. At least he did have the ability to contact Krytoes whenever he needed to. This also seemed to be getting easier and easier with each attempt.

Not that Dragot was growing in power or any such thing, but with the planets getting closer to the proper alignment, Krytoes was slowly gaining a foothold here as his reach seemed to be growing. He couldn’t penetrate the realm just yet, but he could now touch and influence a great many things he couldn’t before.

Dragot finally approached his private chambers and entered, feeling a bit more confident than before. What he was asking the dark lord for was truly a simple gift indeed; one that could be provided quite easily. It would put his mind directly in touch with the Gate Keeper’s.

* * *

Lord Corzon walked thoughtfully down the stone hallways with his two longtime guests following closely behind. He continued to stroke his thick, black beard as they talked. This particular conversation was of great importance, and he was trying to take in every word. They spoke Common, so he had to concentrate just a little bit harder to be sure fine details were not lost in translation, but only a little, as his grasp of Common was actually quite good, given all the business he conducted regularly with foreigners. They each spoke a touch of Dronin as well, but it was so broken, Common was the better choice here.

These two guests had come to the city several years ago. Although many came here to buy furs and conduct other business, few of the light-skinned race ever called Dronin home. These two had not only stayed, but had worked their way into mild positions of power over time, each proving themselves to be quite capable in their own right.

“Only a little farther,” he said over his shoulder as they marched on. “You’re completely sure the city of Taron has been in on this ruse the entire time?”

“Quite sure, my lord. We have no reason to lie about such a thing,” replied the large man as he quickened his pace to try and keep up. His large, dark eyes glistened as they passed by flickering oil lamps spaced out evenly throughout the hallway. “Isn’t that correct, Tamera?”

The tall, blonde girl with the puckered mouth smiled for an instant. It seemed to take a bit of effort to get that mouth to change shape. “We were fooled ourselves, my lord. That snake of a queen has had her own agenda the entire time and made fools of us all. Luckily we were able to see through her venomous lies before it was too late.” At times her deep voice sounded just like a man’s.

Corzon gave a little nod to prove he was indeed listening, but never turned to face either of them as he continued along at the rapid yet steady pace. He halted only once, to peek inside one particular room. There hung the ravaged carcass of the fat merchant Corzon had felt obligated to simply dispose of. Staring at the mostly eaten remains with quite a bit of exposed white bone, he nodded silent approval to himself before closing the door. With an effort he suppressed an emerging grin before marching on.

They went a bit farther before reaching a thick, wooden door. “After you,” said Corzon, motioning towards it with a slight bow of his head. The guests hesitated just a moment to exchange reassuring glances. Then Grimton cautiously pushed it open, entering with Tamera right on his heels. Their expressions changed little while looking at the dead man hanging from the wall, his throat pierced by a sword, his eyes still open and glazed over.

Tamera turned to Corzon and said, “You are sure he was the only witness to this deceitful illusion? The dark lie made up by the powers that be? We must be reassured no other fool will surface and give life to these ridiculous rumors. People tend to believe what they want to believe, especially if the lie is created to give the illusion of false hope.”

“The only one who still drew breath,” said Corzon while struggling to keep suspicion from his voice. “Now, you two must forgive my constant questioning, but I am having a hard time understanding what all this trouble was for in the first place.”

“What do you mean?” asked Grimton. “Surely you don’t believe these exaggerated tales.”

“I said nothing of the sort!” he snapped back, clearly getting agitated. He was feeling a lot of pressure right now. There was so much riding his decisions these days. “What I’m saying is I don’t see the motive. What is the gain in trying to bring some fictional character from some ancient books to life? To go through all the trouble of leaking rumors here and there, hoping they spread like fire, trying to slowly make folk believe that this entity is real? So what if folk do start to think this...Gate Keeper...is actually real? I took this man’s life because you convinced me the ramblings of what he supposedly saw would be poison to our city. Now I’m asking you, what is to be gained by the city of Taron by making up all these lies?”

Lord Corzon was as paranoid as they came, always sure some nearby city was planning an attack; constantly looking over his shoulder for the latest threat to his position of power. Both Tamera and Grimton were fully aware of this fact and knew exactly how to exploit it.

Grimton stepped in close to Corzon, meeting his dark eyes easily he whispered, “Control, my lord. Control of the people. Control of their free will!” He backed off a step and let the cryptic remarks sink in, all the while reading Corzon’s eyes to be sure he was properly playing the man’s emotions. Corzon was certainly paranoid, but he was no fool. “She plans war against the great city of Dronin!”

“What!?” Corzon shouted as his eyes widened, but he quickly composed himself, not used to revealing his emotions so freely. “Bah! What evidence do you have of such a traitorous thing? As large a city as Taron is, they could never best our soldiers in combat. Taron would cease to exist if they ever tried to!”

“Exactly, my lord. Exactly,” Tamera cut him off. “The witch knows Dronin would never fall to her pitiful military. Unless...” It was clear she had Corzon’s full attention now, as his dark eyes stared a hole right through her. “Unless all the people believed they were fighting for a cause greater than their own survival, greater than merely the honor of Taron. If she could convince everyone this
fable
born from a time of darkness and superstition was not only real, but on their side as well—”

“They would fight like cornered animals,” Corzon replied absently while his eyes rose up to gaze at nothing. Then the strangely timid look on his face was replaced with solid resolve in the blink of an eye. “But I ask you again; what proof do you present?”

“What more proof do you need?” barked Grimton, taking a bit of a chance now. “To what other gain would the witch of Taron promote such nonsense? Her intent is clear, and she will use any and all tricks she has at her disposal. Taking down Dronin would leave Taron the strongest city remaining in Tarmerria. Surely you see that!”

Corzon’s eyes smoldered with fire. Threatening his power and authority was punishable by death. “That is, of course, unless you believe the drunken fairy tales. If that is indeed the case...my lord...I will be more than happy to notify the people that the great Corzon Thenalra happily throws his full support behind this farm boy from Bryer. Perhaps we will celebrate by cutting the heads of chickens while worshiping clouds in the sky...my lord.”

“Silence!” Corzon roared as his hand moved swiftly to his sword hilt. Tamera and Grimton both mirrored the pose as the apparent standoff ensued. All the energy and heated passion of heavy words had now become deathly silence, hanging in the air like fog after a storm. Corzon’s eyes shifted from one, to the other, then back again as he stalled to think. Then, with a heavy sigh, his hand fell from his sword, the gesture followed immediately by the other two.

“I will consider your words carefully,” he said, sounding weak and drained all of a sudden.

“Don’t consider too long. The fate of the city depends on whether or not its leader has the devotion to do the people’s will...my lord,” said Grimton as he and Tamera turned to leave.

When they were out of earshot, Tamera turned and said, “Good show. I didn’t think attacking his pride would bring such quick results, only a quick death.”