Damiynn
Fantasy Author
I regret to say that my second book, A King's Task, vol 2 of The Kingdom Chronicles will not be out before I deploy for Iraq. For those who have been following my progress I am truly sorry and time permitting between bullets I will have it out to my publisher as soon as possible but my first is still availiable, A King's Quest. Again sorry for the delay, A V Wedhorn
Chapter 2
Plots and plans
Cyadine watched the bird and rider until they were nothing more than specks. His master’s plans put into motion twenty years ago were finally coming to fruition. The people implementing them were serving well. All eager to receive the things they thought they deserved, not knowing what they were truly going to receive.
Suddenly, his body gave a reflexive jerk as a jolt of magical energy crashed into him. So much burned through him that it felt like a river breaching a dam and the surge drove the royal advisor onto his knees.
Pain shot through him as he struck the stony earth and caught completely unaware, Cyadine cursed. The suddenness of the attack was a shock, no one had crossed over the protective wards he had created while talking to the Terian Commander.
Reacting instinctively, the ex battlemage pulled hard on the creational energy around him and his hands filled with crackling tendrils of power that flexed and hissed like writhing snakes. Force spells would drive away any attackers with explosive bursts. His mouth also said the words to a shield spell.
A heartbeat later he realized what was going on and released the drawn energy. Turning, he eyed the gigantic stone edifice, the Godshall, or more formally, Illsador.
Icy blue eyes locked on the far away building where the gods lived. Even from this distance, it felt like it was looming over him.
The creational power he had mistaken for an attack was actually his own. Spells cast long ago, now returning. He shook his head ruefully. His undead construct, his Golath, created using forbidden blood magic and the body of Colin Lightbringer, his old battlemaster’s second student, was dead.
Twenty years earlier he had placed Colin’s body inside of the royal burial chamber to protect the Dragon rings and had enchanted it to prevent anyone from ever taking them.
Damien Daverge must have somehow destroyed his golath.
A formidable task, thought Cyadine, impressed. He had only barely defeated Colin himself. That thought led to another. The heir had to have the Dragon rings. Unless they killed him, they would name him the true ruler of the fourteen kingdoms and heir to the Throne and Crown.
Only someone taking the Dragon rings could activate the Golath’s magic, and only an heir can enter the royal chamber without being killed. The powerful wards and glyphs protecting the royal tombs kept out anyone else not of royal blood.
Not even Seth Salidor, the Royal Regent’s son, who would be named king on his eighteenth naming day if they kept Damien away long enough, could enter the tombs until he was proclaimed upon the Sunstone Throne.
Releasing the creational magic, Cyadine stood back up and slowly tapped a long thin finger against his bottom lip, thinking. His red and black robes with their gold trim whipped around his tall frame as the wind tore through his long white blonde hair.
Not even as advisor to the Throne and Crown could he again enter the doors of the far away building. He had no way to check on whether the heir had succeeded. The guardian dragon serving as watcher for the gods wouldn’t let him inside. Damn Beast! He thought irritably.
It was the smartest and largest of its kind created by the ancient wizards of the Tua-latin. Long before their banishment, the Elvynn war wizards had taken the essences of the dead ancient dragons and created their own special creatures to protect them. The godshall guardian they created thinking that it could protect them from the gods.
Cyadine wasn’t about to try and battle with the gigantic dragon, not even armed with Spellbreaker. Nor did he plan on standing out here in the freezing cold waiting for some sign of what had occurred inside of the hall. Either he would have to risk contacting his son who was traveling with the heir, or he would have to wait. If Damien Daverge’s group had recovered the Dragon rings, they could only be headed towards one place.
A cunning smile crept across Cyadine’s cold countenance. If he calculated correctly, men could intercept them long before they reached the Krannion knight’s island citadel, Gremillion.
That has to be where they’re heading. Damien Daverge has to go to the Citadel. Without the knights’ proclamations of loyalty and fealty, no one would follow him, no matter who he claimed to be. Unless, then he dismissed the idea, Damien Daverge was only a wearer of the rings like all other Kings before him.
The royal proctor and protector, Gunther Haldron, along with a group of his knights would be the perfect thing. They could ambush the heir and deal with him somewhere near the mountain city of Embry. If they all still lived, Gunther could kill them, unless Caliban did it first.
With one last look at the looming walls of the Godshall, Cyadine turned away. Focusing, he drew upon the energy needed to open another fiery doorway that would take him back to Kallamar. The powerful spell, that most battlemages couldn’t cast, was almost easy now. With his return to full strength, he thought contemptuously, a lot of things would be easier, including his revenge.
A cruel smile curled the edges of his thin lips. The battlemages, who he would have served with before being cast out, already considered him dangerous. Now, finally, he thought scornfully, I will be able to use all of my abilities and skills against those who once degraded me. Those of his old order, who had taken away his coveted black and gold robes, would pay for their mistake.
Soon they will find out how powerful I truly am. How dangerous the lessons I learned are when turned against them. He would use every tactic and stratagem learned from the greatest battlemaster on the planet to destroy them. I will personally crush their order.
That was his promise from his Elvynn masters and the cost of his betrayal. Vengeance against those who had cast him out! Vengeance against those who had dishonored him! Vengeance, once the other battlemages were in iron chains and manacles, begging at his feet. This thought filled his mind as he stepped through the fire and back into the royal palace
* * *
“What do you mean, the heir’s alive?” the Royal Regent exploded. “You assured me your son would kill him!” His expression changed to scorn. “Now what! He has failed? Now the heir has the Dragon rings!” Vargas Salidor’s, voice echoed off of the walls and veins bulged in his neck as he shouted, “That means that you failed Cyadine!”
Cyadine stayed silent, enduring the Royal Regent’s arrogant criticism and the smug looks from Gunther Haldron stoically, glad that his son had failed in his attempt on Damien Daverge’s life. If he hadn’t, his masters might have found a more suitable punishment for his having killed off the one who might be a sign of their banishment ending. Failures to them usually meant death. Vargas losing power over the fourteen kingdoms meant little in comparison. Once his masters succeeded, he would be one of the rulers here.
Keeping his face devoid of emotion, Cyadine listened to the dark haired ruler’s comments, concealing his contempt for the shrewd faced human
behind a calm icy mask.
Vargas was right, he had made a mistake. He had severely underestimated the abilities of this battlemage heir and his party and had neglected Tiko’s first rule, never underestimate your enemy. In thinking they couldn’t get by his Golath he had been arrogant. Next time he set a trap, he would remember his despised battlemaster’s second rule. Never forget rule number one.
Despite his smug expression, Gunther Haldron took in all that was occurring in thoughtful silence. The large white haired proctor served now in the same position as the cousin he had betrayed, champion to the Throne and Crown and personal protector to the Royal Regent. Large, with arms and legs the size of small oak trees and a chest so big that it made most blacksmiths jealous Gunther’s stark white hair did not match his forty something face with its leonine features. He might have been considered handsome if it weren’t for the evil looking scar running from the edge of his right eye in a split down his cheek, ending at the corner of his mouth. The jagged scar disfiguring gave the proctor the appearance of a permanent looking sneer.
He listened after Vargas was done with his tirade to the advisor’s suggestions and slowly nodded. “All I have to do is tell my knights that we are still under orders to capture or kill the female cleric of Dar and the murderers with her for having been involved in the death of Lord Dalmar.”
Cyadine nodded and the flush that had filled Vargas’ face slowly receeded. Dalmar had been killed in his sleep by Cyadine’s son. He had stolen a bolt from Richard’s castle and it had been used to implicate the rebellious Highlord for the murder.
Richard’s plot to unite the six western kingdoms under Damien and for his having decided to go against Royal Regent’s lawful orders had made it easy. Cyadine’s son had done well in planting the necessary evidence, damning the group going for the rings. It had been placed squarely on the people plotting to remove them.
In that, the advisor hadn’t failed, but Vargas only saw failures affecting him now, rather than the successes that had helped him in the past. That, Gunther knew, was only one of the Royal Regent’s many failings.
Because of the deception Lord Richard Daverge, the Highlord of Castlekeep, and the rest of the western Highlords were trying to perpetrate, they couldn’t say anything in his defense. By trying to buy Damien time to recover the rings, Richard had to allow himself to be removed.
Gunther chose thirty of his closest and most trusted knights to accompany him north. He made arrangements for there to be fresh horses at every knight’s station along the way so that he would not have to use one of the advisor’s fiery doorways. Not because he didn’t want to, but because the journey was only a four or five day hard ride and the activity would do him good.
As the royal protector and Regent’s champion, he had been locked up in his position of authority for too long under the mantle of leadership and he felt like he was growing soft, losing skills acquired from daily knightly duties.
According to Cyadine’s calculations, he should be able to capture the heir’s party and deal with them somewhere near the forests bordering the city of Embry.
Through eyes glinting like cold steel Gunther saw they would also be near the Elvynn swamps of Edgemoor. An idea formed in his head about what to do with the heir’s party.
Mulling it over, he reached a decision. If all went well, no one would ever know of this heir or of their part in his disappearance.
Outside of the western realm only the Highlords, halflings and dwarven rulers knew who Damien Daverge was. No one else in the other kingdoms was aware of his existence. Most thought he was dead and that the rest of his group were murderers.
His knights could dispose of their bodies in the swamps and they would never be recovered. With the heir’s death, the claim to the Throne and Crown would die. He personally would chop the Dragon Rings off Damien Daverge’s hands and present them to Seth Salidor on his eighteenth naming day, after he had been crowned King.
As the early morning sun cast the sky in a vivid shade of orange, the krannion proctor along with thirty knights rode out from the palace’s shining walls. They wore the plain brown armor of mercenaries rather than silver gray. Wearing their true colors would draw attention and that was something the Royal Regent, his advisor or the protector didn’t want to have happen. The quieter they kept this, the better.
Krannion knights serve as the protectors of the people and always drew attention whenever they ride. If the public noticed he was with them it would set tongues wagging. He was sure Lord Richard, even out of office, still had resources and spies in place in the capitol city. Mercenary knights, though, hardly ever drew attention unless a war was being fought.
Cyadine almost smiled at their departure. He knew his plans wouldn’t start for several more days, but it was also possible that Gunther might be caught in the middle. He was heading towards Embry. If I am lucky, the advisor thought, maybe he would be killed, if that happened it would save him the trouble of doing it later.
A second group of legitimate knights had also rode out of Castlekeep on Vargas’ orders, but no one had heard from them or knew their location. Obviously, Cyadine reasoned, they hadn’t caught or captured the group going to the Godshall because he knew they had already arrived at their destination.
Both he and Lord Vargas watched the group departing, each absorbed completely in his own thoughts. Cyadine wondered, watching them ride northward, why he hadn’t heard from his son. If Damien Daverge was alive, he expected to hear from Caliban. He hoped again as he had earlier in the week that nothing had happened to his son that he had trained since childhood to be an assassin mage. Trained to use the skills of warfare and combat that he had learned himself as a battlemage and from his Elvynn masters. He wouldn’t feel sadness if his son was dead, but he would feel pangs of regret. Caliban was his most valuable tool. Honed into a weapon of deadly efficiency, it would hurt his master’s cause to lose him.
He decided to give him three more days. If he hadn’t heard from him by then he would take a chance and try to make contact. For no other reason than to insure that Gunther’s party was at least on the right course. After that Gunther could or would kill the heir and retrieve the rings. If Damien Daverge’s death delayed his master’s plans, he was still in a place of power here. In the kingdoms he could rule from behind the throne just as well as being on it. If Gunther did it unknowingly, his master couldn’t put the blame on him.
Chapter 2
Plots and plans
Cyadine watched the bird and rider until they were nothing more than specks. His master’s plans put into motion twenty years ago were finally coming to fruition. The people implementing them were serving well. All eager to receive the things they thought they deserved, not knowing what they were truly going to receive.
Suddenly, his body gave a reflexive jerk as a jolt of magical energy crashed into him. So much burned through him that it felt like a river breaching a dam and the surge drove the royal advisor onto his knees.
Pain shot through him as he struck the stony earth and caught completely unaware, Cyadine cursed. The suddenness of the attack was a shock, no one had crossed over the protective wards he had created while talking to the Terian Commander.
Reacting instinctively, the ex battlemage pulled hard on the creational energy around him and his hands filled with crackling tendrils of power that flexed and hissed like writhing snakes. Force spells would drive away any attackers with explosive bursts. His mouth also said the words to a shield spell.
A heartbeat later he realized what was going on and released the drawn energy. Turning, he eyed the gigantic stone edifice, the Godshall, or more formally, Illsador.
Icy blue eyes locked on the far away building where the gods lived. Even from this distance, it felt like it was looming over him.
The creational power he had mistaken for an attack was actually his own. Spells cast long ago, now returning. He shook his head ruefully. His undead construct, his Golath, created using forbidden blood magic and the body of Colin Lightbringer, his old battlemaster’s second student, was dead.
Twenty years earlier he had placed Colin’s body inside of the royal burial chamber to protect the Dragon rings and had enchanted it to prevent anyone from ever taking them.
Damien Daverge must have somehow destroyed his golath.
A formidable task, thought Cyadine, impressed. He had only barely defeated Colin himself. That thought led to another. The heir had to have the Dragon rings. Unless they killed him, they would name him the true ruler of the fourteen kingdoms and heir to the Throne and Crown.
Only someone taking the Dragon rings could activate the Golath’s magic, and only an heir can enter the royal chamber without being killed. The powerful wards and glyphs protecting the royal tombs kept out anyone else not of royal blood.
Not even Seth Salidor, the Royal Regent’s son, who would be named king on his eighteenth naming day if they kept Damien away long enough, could enter the tombs until he was proclaimed upon the Sunstone Throne.
Releasing the creational magic, Cyadine stood back up and slowly tapped a long thin finger against his bottom lip, thinking. His red and black robes with their gold trim whipped around his tall frame as the wind tore through his long white blonde hair.
Not even as advisor to the Throne and Crown could he again enter the doors of the far away building. He had no way to check on whether the heir had succeeded. The guardian dragon serving as watcher for the gods wouldn’t let him inside. Damn Beast! He thought irritably.
It was the smartest and largest of its kind created by the ancient wizards of the Tua-latin. Long before their banishment, the Elvynn war wizards had taken the essences of the dead ancient dragons and created their own special creatures to protect them. The godshall guardian they created thinking that it could protect them from the gods.
Cyadine wasn’t about to try and battle with the gigantic dragon, not even armed with Spellbreaker. Nor did he plan on standing out here in the freezing cold waiting for some sign of what had occurred inside of the hall. Either he would have to risk contacting his son who was traveling with the heir, or he would have to wait. If Damien Daverge’s group had recovered the Dragon rings, they could only be headed towards one place.
A cunning smile crept across Cyadine’s cold countenance. If he calculated correctly, men could intercept them long before they reached the Krannion knight’s island citadel, Gremillion.
That has to be where they’re heading. Damien Daverge has to go to the Citadel. Without the knights’ proclamations of loyalty and fealty, no one would follow him, no matter who he claimed to be. Unless, then he dismissed the idea, Damien Daverge was only a wearer of the rings like all other Kings before him.
The royal proctor and protector, Gunther Haldron, along with a group of his knights would be the perfect thing. They could ambush the heir and deal with him somewhere near the mountain city of Embry. If they all still lived, Gunther could kill them, unless Caliban did it first.
With one last look at the looming walls of the Godshall, Cyadine turned away. Focusing, he drew upon the energy needed to open another fiery doorway that would take him back to Kallamar. The powerful spell, that most battlemages couldn’t cast, was almost easy now. With his return to full strength, he thought contemptuously, a lot of things would be easier, including his revenge.
A cruel smile curled the edges of his thin lips. The battlemages, who he would have served with before being cast out, already considered him dangerous. Now, finally, he thought scornfully, I will be able to use all of my abilities and skills against those who once degraded me. Those of his old order, who had taken away his coveted black and gold robes, would pay for their mistake.
Soon they will find out how powerful I truly am. How dangerous the lessons I learned are when turned against them. He would use every tactic and stratagem learned from the greatest battlemaster on the planet to destroy them. I will personally crush their order.
That was his promise from his Elvynn masters and the cost of his betrayal. Vengeance against those who had cast him out! Vengeance against those who had dishonored him! Vengeance, once the other battlemages were in iron chains and manacles, begging at his feet. This thought filled his mind as he stepped through the fire and back into the royal palace
* * *
“What do you mean, the heir’s alive?” the Royal Regent exploded. “You assured me your son would kill him!” His expression changed to scorn. “Now what! He has failed? Now the heir has the Dragon rings!” Vargas Salidor’s, voice echoed off of the walls and veins bulged in his neck as he shouted, “That means that you failed Cyadine!”
Cyadine stayed silent, enduring the Royal Regent’s arrogant criticism and the smug looks from Gunther Haldron stoically, glad that his son had failed in his attempt on Damien Daverge’s life. If he hadn’t, his masters might have found a more suitable punishment for his having killed off the one who might be a sign of their banishment ending. Failures to them usually meant death. Vargas losing power over the fourteen kingdoms meant little in comparison. Once his masters succeeded, he would be one of the rulers here.
Keeping his face devoid of emotion, Cyadine listened to the dark haired ruler’s comments, concealing his contempt for the shrewd faced human
behind a calm icy mask.
Vargas was right, he had made a mistake. He had severely underestimated the abilities of this battlemage heir and his party and had neglected Tiko’s first rule, never underestimate your enemy. In thinking they couldn’t get by his Golath he had been arrogant. Next time he set a trap, he would remember his despised battlemaster’s second rule. Never forget rule number one.
Despite his smug expression, Gunther Haldron took in all that was occurring in thoughtful silence. The large white haired proctor served now in the same position as the cousin he had betrayed, champion to the Throne and Crown and personal protector to the Royal Regent. Large, with arms and legs the size of small oak trees and a chest so big that it made most blacksmiths jealous Gunther’s stark white hair did not match his forty something face with its leonine features. He might have been considered handsome if it weren’t for the evil looking scar running from the edge of his right eye in a split down his cheek, ending at the corner of his mouth. The jagged scar disfiguring gave the proctor the appearance of a permanent looking sneer.
He listened after Vargas was done with his tirade to the advisor’s suggestions and slowly nodded. “All I have to do is tell my knights that we are still under orders to capture or kill the female cleric of Dar and the murderers with her for having been involved in the death of Lord Dalmar.”
Cyadine nodded and the flush that had filled Vargas’ face slowly receeded. Dalmar had been killed in his sleep by Cyadine’s son. He had stolen a bolt from Richard’s castle and it had been used to implicate the rebellious Highlord for the murder.
Richard’s plot to unite the six western kingdoms under Damien and for his having decided to go against Royal Regent’s lawful orders had made it easy. Cyadine’s son had done well in planting the necessary evidence, damning the group going for the rings. It had been placed squarely on the people plotting to remove them.
In that, the advisor hadn’t failed, but Vargas only saw failures affecting him now, rather than the successes that had helped him in the past. That, Gunther knew, was only one of the Royal Regent’s many failings.
Because of the deception Lord Richard Daverge, the Highlord of Castlekeep, and the rest of the western Highlords were trying to perpetrate, they couldn’t say anything in his defense. By trying to buy Damien time to recover the rings, Richard had to allow himself to be removed.
Gunther chose thirty of his closest and most trusted knights to accompany him north. He made arrangements for there to be fresh horses at every knight’s station along the way so that he would not have to use one of the advisor’s fiery doorways. Not because he didn’t want to, but because the journey was only a four or five day hard ride and the activity would do him good.
As the royal protector and Regent’s champion, he had been locked up in his position of authority for too long under the mantle of leadership and he felt like he was growing soft, losing skills acquired from daily knightly duties.
According to Cyadine’s calculations, he should be able to capture the heir’s party and deal with them somewhere near the forests bordering the city of Embry.
Through eyes glinting like cold steel Gunther saw they would also be near the Elvynn swamps of Edgemoor. An idea formed in his head about what to do with the heir’s party.
Mulling it over, he reached a decision. If all went well, no one would ever know of this heir or of their part in his disappearance.
Outside of the western realm only the Highlords, halflings and dwarven rulers knew who Damien Daverge was. No one else in the other kingdoms was aware of his existence. Most thought he was dead and that the rest of his group were murderers.
His knights could dispose of their bodies in the swamps and they would never be recovered. With the heir’s death, the claim to the Throne and Crown would die. He personally would chop the Dragon Rings off Damien Daverge’s hands and present them to Seth Salidor on his eighteenth naming day, after he had been crowned King.
As the early morning sun cast the sky in a vivid shade of orange, the krannion proctor along with thirty knights rode out from the palace’s shining walls. They wore the plain brown armor of mercenaries rather than silver gray. Wearing their true colors would draw attention and that was something the Royal Regent, his advisor or the protector didn’t want to have happen. The quieter they kept this, the better.
Krannion knights serve as the protectors of the people and always drew attention whenever they ride. If the public noticed he was with them it would set tongues wagging. He was sure Lord Richard, even out of office, still had resources and spies in place in the capitol city. Mercenary knights, though, hardly ever drew attention unless a war was being fought.
Cyadine almost smiled at their departure. He knew his plans wouldn’t start for several more days, but it was also possible that Gunther might be caught in the middle. He was heading towards Embry. If I am lucky, the advisor thought, maybe he would be killed, if that happened it would save him the trouble of doing it later.
A second group of legitimate knights had also rode out of Castlekeep on Vargas’ orders, but no one had heard from them or knew their location. Obviously, Cyadine reasoned, they hadn’t caught or captured the group going to the Godshall because he knew they had already arrived at their destination.
Both he and Lord Vargas watched the group departing, each absorbed completely in his own thoughts. Cyadine wondered, watching them ride northward, why he hadn’t heard from his son. If Damien Daverge was alive, he expected to hear from Caliban. He hoped again as he had earlier in the week that nothing had happened to his son that he had trained since childhood to be an assassin mage. Trained to use the skills of warfare and combat that he had learned himself as a battlemage and from his Elvynn masters. He wouldn’t feel sadness if his son was dead, but he would feel pangs of regret. Caliban was his most valuable tool. Honed into a weapon of deadly efficiency, it would hurt his master’s cause to lose him.
He decided to give him three more days. If he hadn’t heard from him by then he would take a chance and try to make contact. For no other reason than to insure that Gunther’s party was at least on the right course. After that Gunther could or would kill the heir and retrieve the rings. If Damien Daverge’s death delayed his master’s plans, he was still in a place of power here. In the kingdoms he could rule from behind the throne just as well as being on it. If Gunther did it unknowingly, his master couldn’t put the blame on him.
