Blood Betrayal Page 4

  After only a few minutes that went by far too quickly for Keth's nerves, the two men stood at a plain but solid, brown stained oak door. It stood very slightly ajar, open perhaps only an inch, and the room beyond appeared dark. Keth held up his closed hand as if to knock, but before he could do so, Rederick moved past him and pushed the door completely open. The room beyond was nearly lightless, as the window was shuttered against what morning sun would have shined through. The light from the corridor gloomily pierced the darkness, revealing Cor sitting upright at his desk, facing the door. The Lord Dahken sat perfectly still with his hands folded over each other on the tabletop, though he was not asleep. His eyes first locked on the form of King Rederick, and then shifted to that of Keth, though the younger man wondered if the Lord Dahken could make out any more than an outline in the sudden light.

  "Gods, open the shutter and get some light in here," Rederick commanded as he strode into the small room.

  Seeing that Cor had no intention of moving from his place, Keth squeezed his way around the edge of the room to unshutter the large window immediately behind Cor. It did not brighten the room completely, as the sun was on the wrong side of the building, but it was enough to dispel the gloom. A shiver went up Keth's back as he thought of the tomb in which Cor had found the ancient Lord Dahken Noth. The room certainly had been as dark as a tomb, and were it not for the movement of Cor's eyes, Keth may have thought him dead. He thought of the way Cor had described first seeing Noth, and somehow felt the silence of the two Lord Dahken to be extraordinarily similar.

  "Generally when I enter a room, I am greeted with subjects kneeling or at least bowing," Rederick stated grimly as Keth came back to his side, "but to be hardly recognized at all? Forget etiquette due one's King, that is purely rude."

  "Why did you bring him here?" Cor asked with a look toward Keth, an almost bored despondency in his voice.

  "He is King," Keth replied simply.

  "Forget etiquette then. Enough of this, Cor, this hiding within your Crescent," said Rederick. "I need you back at my Council table. Aquis needs your service again."

  "I'm sure it is nothing Keth cannot handle. There's nothing more I can do for Aquis."

  "Why? What is this melancholy that has afflicted you for the last several years?" Rederick asked, and Keth noted that the hurt anger in his voice had shifted to concern. For all of the king's fighting prowess and imposing size, he had a soft heart.

  "I'm no longer needed."

  "You sit upon my Council!"

  "You should pass my seat to someone else," Cor argued.

  "There are no other Dahken who are worthy," Keth replied, "but you wouldn't know that. Would you? You spend no time with any other than your son."

  These words caused Cor to pause for a moment, and Keth felt the Lord Dahken's eyes searching his face. Even King Rederick had turned slightly to better see Keth out of the corner of his eye. Looking back at his own words, Keth could hear the hurt and perhaps even betrayal within the tone of them. He realized it was one of the few times he had ever let his emotions show to others, momentarily ruining his calm, even stoic, demeanor.

  "I can't teach the Dahken, just as I can't be there for Aquis. It wouldn't be..." Cor paused, "responsible."

  "How dare you speak to me of what is responsible?!" Rederick nearly shouted, his anger coming back to the surface. "Responsibility? When Aquis needed leadership, you convinced me that I must lead, that I must be King of Aquis, and a hundred thousand deaths are on my conscience for it. Your counsel pushed me to those actions. You find and liberate your own people and bring any you come across to this place to learn what it means to be a Dahken, and then you abandon Dahken Keth to the task. You thrust responsibility upon those around you, then shirk it yourself! What gives you that right?"

  "Because of the things I know, the things I can do," Cor answered quietly, as if it were all the explanation anyone in the world would need for his actions.

  "What you can do? Do you think you are so gifted by the gods?"

  Keth could almost hear the sneer that he thought must be plain upon the king's face, but he did not tear his eyes away from his Lord Dahken. The man had become almost inscrutable in his self-imposed captivity, his face as stoic as usually was Keth's. The only time Keth saw the Lord Dahken happy, and that was rare for he hardly ever saw the man, was when Cor was in the company of Thyss and Cor'El.

  "The gods have nothing to do with what I'm capable of. You were there, you saw what I did at Bloody Gorge. After, I went to the Loszian crater and did the same to them. I slew them by turning them to blood within their meteor. I can do the same to anyone, everyone, anytime I so desire with just a thought. How can one such as me be part of your world?"

  "Our world?!" roared Rederick, and Keth nearly jumped out of his skin with the suddenness of the king's outburst. "It is your world, too! You helped build it, make it what it is for your people, all of our peoples. And now you would ignore it because it is beyond these halls, beyond your wife and son, because you are too powerful to associate with the likes of us?! Perhaps not only Loszians, Westerners and Tigoleans died those eight years ago at Bloody Gorge? Perhaps my friend Cor Pelson died there eight years ago as well, one more loss upon my conscience!"

  With that, King Rederick stormed out of the small room, leaving the two Dahken behind. Keth only watched after him for a moment, wide eyed, until the red haired king turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Keth sighed deeply and turned back to face his Lord Dahken, who still only sat and stared down the hall beyond the room's oak door. In Cor's eyes, Keth thought he found a glimmer of comprehension for just a moment before it disappeared. Like all Dahken, Cor had the ashen gray pallor of the dead about his skin, but he had never before looked so truly unalive.

  Keth sighed deeply and said, "I shall leave you to your tomb, Lord Dahken," and he turned to leave, pulling the door shut behind him.

  Cor

  For hours, Cor sat at his desk and simply stared at the closed oak door that kept all of the world outside. He knew it had been hours, because when he finally realized that his grumbling stomach would not leave him alone, the late afternoon sunlight shined warmly on the back of his head with its near black hair. Cor wanted to ignore the two men, forget their words, for did they really even matter anymore?

  But he just couldn't. The longer he stayed seated behind his desk, the more he repeated their words in his mind, the more they started to gnaw at him. It became increasingly troublesome, and the images of the two men in his mind began to change. His memory of their expressions, and even what they said, altered as their apparent intentions became mocking or even malicious. Cor stood from his desk and began to pace around the room, or rather he began to pace as much as one could in the cramped quarters of his office. As he moved about, his heart began to thump, a feeling he hadn't felt in years. Who were they to talk to him like that? Why, he could just simply...

  Cor stopped and peered out the unshuttered window toward the afternoon sun, closing his eyes so that the sun would not blind him. It warmed his face, burning red filling his sight behind his eyelids, and he leaned onto the window sill to feel it even further. He seemed to have forgotten how the sun felt on his skin, and the wonder of it calmed his heart. Cor opened his eyes and looked down at his open hands, finding that the callouses caused by years of swordplay had vanished.

  How have I come to be here? he thought.

  Though he had pushed it away for a moment, his almost spontaneous anger toward Keth and Rederick still lay in his gut, and somewhere in the halls of the Crescent, Cor heard a faint song urging him to take up arms and slay. He hadn't heard it in quite some time, though somehow he knew it had always been there. Pushing it aside, Cor turned and strode to his door and threw it open. He briskly walked away from his office, almost breaking into a run as he headed for the rooms he shared with Thyss and his son.

  He found the main room of the suite silent and empty. Two windows, the size and shape of kite shields, were unsh
uttered to allow a warm breeze to flutter the red silk drapes and circulate through the sumptuously furnished room. Thyss had spared no expense in importing the finest of carpets and tapestries from her homeland, the latter depicting various scenes of Dulkur's history or mythology. Several divans and couches covered with silk, satin or velvet lay strewn across the room, allowing for one to be at ease anywhere one chose to sit. Two years after moving in, Thyss demanded a stone fireplace, which caused no fewer than three engineers a substantial amount of sleepless nights to design and install. Mounted to the masonry above it was Thyss' wicked blade, the sword the Grek known as Feghul had somehow found the inspiration to create.

  Only one thing in the main room did not speak volumes of Thyss, and that had been pushed off to the southeast corner. Black armor - a helm, hauberk and legguards - hung lonesomely on a stand, shining in the afternoon sunlight. Next to the stand was a small pine rack upon which rested Soulmourn and Ebonwing, the sword and fetish that Cor hadn't wielded in almost ten years. Their song suddenly burst forth into his mind, and again his heart began to race. Again he pushed the song and urging away, though the slight buzzing sound of one bee somewhere in the distance seemed to aggravate his left ear.

  "Thyss?" he called somewhat softly as he slowly padded toward their bedroom, his urgency of just a few moments ago forgotten.

  Burgundy silk drapes hung in an open doorway, separating their bedroom from the apartment's main room, and Cor gently pulled those aside with one hand. The room beyond was dim, as the two windows overlooking the street below were obviously shuttered, and more burgundy silks hung to further muffle what little light and sound still managed to penetrate them.

  In the center of the room stood the bed he shared with Thyss. It consisted of a luxuriously plush mattress, the contents of which Cor was unsure, laying on a free standing, solid wood platform, again something Thyss had specially made in the style of her homeland. Cor was unsure as to what sort of wood from which it was made, but the platform, supported by nine legs stood very solidly, regardless of what activities were performed atop of it.

  Though very dim, Cor could make out Thyss' profile upon the plush mattress, unruly silk bedsheets wrapped haphazardly about her. As his eyes adjusted, he could then see that she was entwined with a smaller form, a boy with his father's gray skin and his mother's golden hair. One of Thyss' legs protruded from the array of silks, and Cor's eyes traveled its bare, bronze length.

  "Thyss?" he asked again, whispering.

  The sorceress opened one eye lazily to gaze in his direction, and she disentangled one arm so that she could raise a single finger to her lips. While he quietly stood watching, she extricated herself from both the silk bedclothes and their son and threw her legs over the side of the bed. As he watched her stretch, Cor's eyes narrowed with the realization that she was in fact completely nude. He admired her perfect form - thin, firmly muscled and lithe, but something about the scene bothered him. She produced her normal attire, and he watched her back disappear as she pulled her tunic over her head. Cor released the silk curtains, allowing them to settle back in place, and he turned to idly pace the main room while he waited.

  "You interrupted our rest," Thyss called softly behind him. Cor turned to find her lacing the front of her black silk breeches, the silk curtains swaying slightly behind her.

  "I'm sorry," Cor said by reflex, but there was nothing apologetic in his tone.

  "What is wrong?"

  "I really would rather he not sleep with you," Cor answered, "not in our bed."

  "He is only ten. It is nothing."

  "Maybe not, but must you be nude when he does? It doesn't seem... proper."

  "Ha!" Thyss blurted loudly, a hint of fire in her eyes, "Is Lord Dahken Cor Pelson afraid that he may lose me after all these years to his own son? I promise such a thought disgusts me."

  "I know."

  "If I am to have the pleasure of such a wonderful bed," Thyss explained, "I shall enjoy it as it was meant to be enjoyed. Now you did not come to me to discuss my sleeping habits."

  "No, I didn't," Cor said glumly, running his fingers through his near black hair. He sat uncomfortably upon one of the divans.

  "Are you going to explain it to me, or did you interrupt my glorious sleep for no reason?" Thyss huffed, and she adopted her so familiar wide stance as if she prepared for a battle.

  "Keth brought Rederick to me today."

  "You do mean King Rederick, do you not?" Thyss asked demandingly, and she crossed her arms to complement her defiant stance.

  "You don't generally care for titles," Cor noted.

  "He is King."

  Cor looked up and locked eyes with her for a long moment. She only stared back at him with fire in her eyes, a look he knew well. Cor had seen it the first time he had met her, and despite the fact she had fallen happily into her life of motherhood and luxury, the old fire still persisted. As he always did with Thyss, Cor accepted defeat and broke eye contact. He looked away, passed a hand over his face and stood from the divan to pace away from the sorceress.

  "I tire of this, Cor."

  "Keth actually brought him into the Crescent, into my chamber!" Cor announced, sudden indignance overtaking his voice.

  "He is King," Thyss repeated.

  "Why does everyone keep reminding me of that?"

  "Because you put him on the throne," Thyss replied calmly. "Perhaps you should not have done so if you are unable to handle the consequences, the responsibility."

  "You speak to me of responsibility?" Cor asked, his indignance turning to anger. "You? You were a priestess, expected to rule and lead, and you ran from it to float like a leaf on the wind. Even now, you do only what you desire when you desire it. What responsibility do you bear in this world?"

  Thyss' eyes flashed frighteningly, and it felt to Cor as if the room had grown suddenly warmer. "How dare you talk to me in such a way?" she hissed, her voice filled with flame and anger. "You know nothing of my life before we met besides what I have told you, and I warn you not to speak of it again!"

  "Mother?" a young voice called from the bedroom, and both looked quietly to see Cor'El emerge from behind the silk curtains. His eyes travelled from Thyss to Cor and back again. "Is everything okay?"

  "Of course," she answered, her tone instantly changing to something softer, calmer.

  "I thought I heard..." Cor'El paused. "It sounded like you were angry."

  "No, now please let me speak with your father for a moment."

  "I'm hungry," the boy said.

  Thyss turned to look past Cor to gauge the afternoon sun, then turned back and said, "It's not yet time for supper, but I suppose we could find something to eat. Wait for me in the hall, and I shall join you in a minute."

  "And father?"

  "No, I think not," Thyss replied as she turned back to Cor to give him the most hateful glare he'd ever felt from friend or foe. "Go now, Cor'El. I will be right there."

  Cor watched as their son looked back and forth between them for a moment before he did as he was told, hefting the heavy door open and pulling it shut behind him with a low boom. Cor knew something very bad was about to befall him, and his eyes lingered on the closed door. When he looked back to Thyss, he simply knew she was about to ignite him.

  "You gray skinned bastard," she started with a low voice that held more danger than he had heard in years, "I have born the greatest responsibility of any in Rumedia. I have born the responsibility of a mother and not only that, but the mother of your child. You sack of horseshit, consider that before you make me look upon your face again."

  She stalked like an angry tiger to the door, exited and slammed it shut behind her with an echo that likely carried all throughout the Crescent. As Cor stood staring at the door that had rebounded slightly ajar just a few inches, he found himself wishing that she had in fact set him bodily aflame.

  * * *

  "King Rederick and Queen Mora are dining," the young guard said matter of factly, as if his stateme
nt explained why he was not allowing Cor entry. He couldn't have been older than seventeen, not quite a man yet still older than Cor when he set out from Sanctum after Rael's first death. Though he needed to pass through the great doors into the hall beyond, Cor appreciated the Westerner's position. He stood solemnly, proudly resplendent in highly polished plate armor with a long sword on his hip and a halberd standing upright and clasped in one hand. "The king and his wife are not to be disturbed. Standing orders, sir."

  "You're a respectful young man, a good soldier," Cor said, nodding approvingly, "but in this instance, I don't think King Rederick would mind. Perhaps you've heard of Lord Dahken Cor Pelson?"

  Owing to his self-imposed confinement from the outside world, Cor knew few of the soldiers and guards around the palace, but he knew stories circulated through the barracks of any army. The question had the desired effect as the guard's eyes momentarily squinted and then grew suddenly wide as if they might pop from his skull at any moment. He seemed suddenly anxious, unsure as to what he should do next.

  "I am s-sorry, Lord Dahken. I did not recognize you," he stammered.

  "Think nothing of it. We've never met," Cor said, attempting to dismiss the guard's sudden discomfort. "I'll wait here. Perhaps you should ask King Rederick if he would receive me?"

  The young man held Cor’s gaze for a moment, uncertainly, before understanding flooded his eyes. Handing his halberd to the other guard, who had neither moved nor spoken through the entire exchange, he turned on his heel and entered the chamber beyond through the right door. As it closed behind him, Cor distinctly heard, “My King, Lord…”