Blood and Steel (The Cor Chronicles Volume I) by Martin Parece II
Cor sat in the larder quietly, chin resting on his palm. He’d never been truly alone before, and the realization that he was completely on his own was beginning to set in. He felt oddly naked, exposed, but he shed no tears for Dahken Rael. Cor had no time for that. He now knew the Queen of Aquis wanted him, though for what purpose he didn’t quite understand, and though attacked first, the soldiers were quick to react to he and Rael with deadly force. Certainly, more men would be sent, but it might take some time before the Queen knew what had transpired. The faster he moved, the more distance he could put between himself and whoever came after him.
Cor compiled a mental list of the things he needed to do. He must do something about Rael, and he must find another weapon. One way or the other, he would need money. Rael seemed to have no shortage of it whenever it was needed; Cor had to find out from where Rael got his gold and silver.
Cor stood up with purpose, leaving the larder and heading for Rael’s room. On some level, it felt rather ghoulish to rifle through the dead man’s belongings, but he knew he needed any and all resources at his disposal. Rael had lived a fairly spartan lifestyle, and there was little here. His armor lay in one corner, surely where the Dahken placed it every time he took it off.
There was one object of note, a large leather bound book that lay next to Rael’s mattress. Cor opened this and quickly realized it was the Dahken’s journal. Cor did not want to invade the man’s privacy, even in death, but he needed information. He flipped to last entry Rael made, in which he discussed some of his recent misgivings over taking Cor to Cade’s farm. Cor began to turn the pages backwards, seemingly walking through the last several years.
Continuing back, he found a page that made him stop suddenly. Rael had made an entry about the events surrounding Cor’s parents, and tacked to the page under the entry was the preserved skin Rael had cut from the Loszian’s shoulder. His journal entry explained that the tattoo was the mark of the Loszian’s master or lord. Cor lightly ran his fingertips down the tattoo, as if expecting it to impart some knowledge to him, and he stared at it for another minute or so before untacking the flap of skin and placing it in a small pouch on his belt.
Cor continued his search in the book, reversing time as he went, and he found an entry dated nearly fifteen years ago where Rael returned to Sanctum after being gone for nearly fifty years. At the time, Rael hadn’t known why he came back, but he apparently spent the next several months reacquainting himself with Sanctum’s layout and making notes about parts of the castle that were too dangerous to traverse.
In this part of Rael’s journal, Cor found the information he sought. The main entrance in the front of the keep opens into the keep’s hall, where the final battle with the Westerners took place. The two doors in the rear of the hall exit into a corridor that runs along the back of the chamber. There is but one other door in that hallway, a huge oaken door, banded with iron and set into the opposite wall. As he was no locksmith and the door was extremely solid, it apparently took Rael nearly a month to circumvent the door’s lock. Inside, he said only that he found the wealth of the Dahken, protected by guardians. He did not say what these guardians were, but only that he vanquished several of them. After, they allowed him to enter and leave at will unmolested, so long as he didn’t stay long.
No matter what their form, Cor could not fight guardians without a weapon, but he had other responsibilities first. Rael’s body still lay in the back of his wagon. Many Westerners buried their dead, while others interred them into sepulchers and mausoleums. In his studies, Cor learned that many cultures burned the dead in funeral pyres. He knew that in his many forays through the study he’d seen a scroll detailing Dahken burial rites. It took him nearly an hour to locate it, and he read it over several times. Cor really didn’t understand why, but it seemed right that Rael be interred as the Dahken before him. He would need to collect all of Rael’s personal effects and then somehow get them and Rael’s body down to the catacombs.
A sudden jolt went through Cor’s body; he went rigid and stood very still. He hadn’t thought of the catacombs in some time, and now his blood felt as if on fire. Gooseflesh formed on his arms, and nearly every hair on his body stood on end. He knew now more than ever, something waited for him down those dark stairs. Cor found himself at the doorway at the top of those stairs, looking down into the darkness with a lit torch in hand. The steps were steep and only wide enough for his feet if he went down sideways, and the dust of ages caked the steps, disturbed in places from his one foray years ago. There was nothing to hold onto as he began his descent.
Cor kept his wits about him as he slowly went down. He could see nothing except dust and cobwebs, but the feeling that something hovered just beyond the light of his torch would not abate. He counted twenty one steps, and then the staircase turned around at a small landing. After another twenty two steps, the staircase opened into a large room. Cor estimated that he was at least thirty feet below Sanctum’s ground floor.
An extreme sense of déjà vu struck Cor; he couldn’t help but notice similarities between this room and the dream he had had more than once. At the same time, there were many differences. The ceiling was only a few feet above his head, and the catacomb had a horribly musty smell. There were crypts everywhere, but they were made of white limestone, not the same indigenous rock as the room itself. Instead of iron stands, Cor saw sconces on the crypts themselves, some containing unlit torches. The crypts were not organized in neat rows, but were clumped somewhat haphazardly, and nearly all of them were marked with names and a glyph signifying them as Dahken. He also found five marked as Lord Dahken; these contained the remains of various leaders of Sanctum throughout the centuries, and it was one of these he stood before for several minutes. It was marked Lord Dahken Rena. Something begged him to open the door to this crypt, but he eventually pulled himself away to continue his search.
Cor found nothing to fear, though he still could not shake the feeling that a constant presence followed his movement. At one end of the catacombs, he found a small dark hole, just barely large enough for a man. He looked in, finding a tiny cave that wormed deep into the natural rock, and listening carefully, Cor could hear the sound of waves. He wondered if this was the same cave he’d seen at the bottom of the promontory during low tide. Cor continued his survey of the catacombs and found two other staircases into the catacombs, one a spiral stair that had almost completely collapsed. The other was a stone stair, not unlike the one he came down.
Cor made his way back to the stair he came down, stopping at an unmarked tomb. He stood before it briefly before igniting the unlit torch in its sconce. He gently pushed on the door, and it opened easily. The crypt was completely empty as he expected, with a large stone slab against the wall opposite the door. Having found Rael’s resting place, Cor returned to the ground level.
Cor gathered Rael’s belongings at the top of the stairs; the man had little, only his armor, sword and journal. Cor took the items down to the crypt he had selected and placed the sword in the northeast corner as prescribed, and the armor, which took two trips, he laid neatly in the northwest corner. Cor hesitated before placing the journal at one end of the stone slab. He’d seen journals of other Dahken in the study, but he was certain they were copies. The original belonged with the man who penned it. He left the crypt, headed back upstairs, and used his torch to light several torches in sconces on the way.
Cor returned to the wagon, which still held Rael’s body. He gently pulled the man to the end of the wagon until Rael’s head fell of the edge and hung downwards unnaturally. Cor looped his arms under the man’s shoulders and pulled backward. Rael was not a large man; in fact, Cor was actually slightly taller, but the sudden weight of Rael’s limp body falling to the ground overpowered him. Cor fell backwards onto the ground, Rael’s body lying in a heap in front of him. Cor didn’t know why, but he was certain he owed this to Rael.
He steeled him
self, certain that if he could just get underneath the man, he could carry Rael’s body on his shoulders. Cor sat Rael up against a wagon wheel and crouched down sideways next to him, and leaning sideways, he gripped the front of Rael’s tunic with his left hand held over his shoulders. He pulled upwards with his left arm, while straightening from the lean. This let Cor slide his right arm up underneath the man’s body, gripping the bottom edge of Rael’s tunic on the back. Setting his teeth, Cor heaved the man up onto his shoulders loosing a great yell while forcing his legs to straighten. He stood still for several moments, feeling the muscles of his thighs burn, and he waited until the sensation dissipated. Cor adjusted the body slightly to make the load more even. His head was pitched forward at an awkward angle, and he was keenly aware that Rael’s face rested slightly on his left shoulder facing him. Slowly, Cor began the walk into the keep.
Once he began moving steadily, Cor found the weight relatively easy to bear. He had a task to complete; Rael was owed the burial of a Dahken. Cor thought about this as he walked, wondering if he was now a true Dahken beyond definition of his blood. For that matter, was he the only one left? He regained focus on his task once he reached the stairs. He had lit several torches on his way up, but the climb down would still be treacherous. The stairs were less than safe when one wasn’t carrying a body. Cor briefly considered dragging Rael down the steps, but quickly convinced himself that would be unwise. If he dragged Rael by the shoulders, no doubt the weight would cause him to lose balance and tumble down the stairs, and dragging the man by his ankles to slowly bash the back of his head in on each stone stair simply would not do. Cor carried Rael this far; he simply must continue.
Cor took the first step gingerly, stepping down with his left foot, followed by his right. He felt the weight on his shoulders keenly as he took the second step in the same manner. He took each step down the first twenty one steps to the landing one at a time as if each one were a challenge in itself, before turning and starting down the second set. By the time he was halfway down these, Cor had become relatively comfortable with the rhythm of his task, and though his muscles began to complain from the effort, he made it to the catacombs without incident.
Cor carried the body to the crypt he had selected, now containing Rael’s few personal items. He reached the door, realizing with a sigh of relief that he had left it ajar, for the closer he got to the final destination, the more tired his muscles became. He entered the crypt, lit inside by a single flickering torch and turned backwards laying Rael’s corpse onto the large slab as gently as he could. Cor turned around and arrayed the man in repose legs and arms straight, his hands at his sides.
Cor understood that typically one of his fellow Dahken would speak, summarizing Rael’s accomplishments, but unfortunately, Cor realized he knew very little about the man, except that he had found, protected and taught Cor of his own strength. Cor hoped that Rael’s journal set at the foot of his resting place would serve to fulfill such requirements. There was but one other action to take before closing the crypt, and as the most powerful Dahken present, Cor drew a small knife and lightly pierced the tip of his left index finger. A small amount of blood quickly welled up from the tiny cut, and Cor pressed it to Rael’s forehead, thus anointing him. Cor wiped the knife’s point on the leg of his breeches and sheathed it. He turned and left the crypt, closing the door behind him.
15.
Cor compiled a mental list of the things he needed to do. He must do something about Rael, and he must find another weapon. One way or the other, he would need money. Rael seemed to have no shortage of it whenever it was needed; Cor had to find out from where Rael got his gold and silver.
Cor stood up with purpose, leaving the larder and heading for Rael’s room. On some level, it felt rather ghoulish to rifle through the dead man’s belongings, but he knew he needed any and all resources at his disposal. Rael had lived a fairly spartan lifestyle, and there was little here. His armor lay in one corner, surely where the Dahken placed it every time he took it off.
There was one object of note, a large leather bound book that lay next to Rael’s mattress. Cor opened this and quickly realized it was the Dahken’s journal. Cor did not want to invade the man’s privacy, even in death, but he needed information. He flipped to last entry Rael made, in which he discussed some of his recent misgivings over taking Cor to Cade’s farm. Cor began to turn the pages backwards, seemingly walking through the last several years.
Continuing back, he found a page that made him stop suddenly. Rael had made an entry about the events surrounding Cor’s parents, and tacked to the page under the entry was the preserved skin Rael had cut from the Loszian’s shoulder. His journal entry explained that the tattoo was the mark of the Loszian’s master or lord. Cor lightly ran his fingertips down the tattoo, as if expecting it to impart some knowledge to him, and he stared at it for another minute or so before untacking the flap of skin and placing it in a small pouch on his belt.
Cor continued his search in the book, reversing time as he went, and he found an entry dated nearly fifteen years ago where Rael returned to Sanctum after being gone for nearly fifty years. At the time, Rael hadn’t known why he came back, but he apparently spent the next several months reacquainting himself with Sanctum’s layout and making notes about parts of the castle that were too dangerous to traverse.
In this part of Rael’s journal, Cor found the information he sought. The main entrance in the front of the keep opens into the keep’s hall, where the final battle with the Westerners took place. The two doors in the rear of the hall exit into a corridor that runs along the back of the chamber. There is but one other door in that hallway, a huge oaken door, banded with iron and set into the opposite wall. As he was no locksmith and the door was extremely solid, it apparently took Rael nearly a month to circumvent the door’s lock. Inside, he said only that he found the wealth of the Dahken, protected by guardians. He did not say what these guardians were, but only that he vanquished several of them. After, they allowed him to enter and leave at will unmolested, so long as he didn’t stay long.
No matter what their form, Cor could not fight guardians without a weapon, but he had other responsibilities first. Rael’s body still lay in the back of his wagon. Many Westerners buried their dead, while others interred them into sepulchers and mausoleums. In his studies, Cor learned that many cultures burned the dead in funeral pyres. He knew that in his many forays through the study he’d seen a scroll detailing Dahken burial rites. It took him nearly an hour to locate it, and he read it over several times. Cor really didn’t understand why, but it seemed right that Rael be interred as the Dahken before him. He would need to collect all of Rael’s personal effects and then somehow get them and Rael’s body down to the catacombs.
A sudden jolt went through Cor’s body; he went rigid and stood very still. He hadn’t thought of the catacombs in some time, and now his blood felt as if on fire. Gooseflesh formed on his arms, and nearly every hair on his body stood on end. He knew now more than ever, something waited for him down those dark stairs. Cor found himself at the doorway at the top of those stairs, looking down into the darkness with a lit torch in hand. The steps were steep and only wide enough for his feet if he went down sideways, and the dust of ages caked the steps, disturbed in places from his one foray years ago. There was nothing to hold onto as he began his descent.
Cor kept his wits about him as he slowly went down. He could see nothing except dust and cobwebs, but the feeling that something hovered just beyond the light of his torch would not abate. He counted twenty one steps, and then the staircase turned around at a small landing. After another twenty two steps, the staircase opened into a large room. Cor estimated that he was at least thirty feet below Sanctum’s ground floor.
An extreme sense of déjà vu struck Cor; he couldn’t help but notice similarities between this room and the dream he had had more than once. At the same time, there were many differences. The ceiling was only a few feet above his head, and the catacomb had a horribly musty smell. There were crypts everywhere, but they were made of white limestone, not the same indigenous rock as the room itself. Instead of iron stands, Cor saw sconces on the crypts themselves, some containing unlit torches. The crypts were not organized in neat rows, but were clumped somewhat haphazardly, and nearly all of them were marked with names and a glyph signifying them as Dahken. He also found five marked as Lord Dahken; these contained the remains of various leaders of Sanctum throughout the centuries, and it was one of these he stood before for several minutes. It was marked Lord Dahken Rena. Something begged him to open the door to this crypt, but he eventually pulled himself away to continue his search.
Cor found nothing to fear, though he still could not shake the feeling that a constant presence followed his movement. At one end of the catacombs, he found a small dark hole, just barely large enough for a man. He looked in, finding a tiny cave that wormed deep into the natural rock, and listening carefully, Cor could hear the sound of waves. He wondered if this was the same cave he’d seen at the bottom of the promontory during low tide. Cor continued his survey of the catacombs and found two other staircases into the catacombs, one a spiral stair that had almost completely collapsed. The other was a stone stair, not unlike the one he came down.
Cor made his way back to the stair he came down, stopping at an unmarked tomb. He stood before it briefly before igniting the unlit torch in its sconce. He gently pushed on the door, and it opened easily. The crypt was completely empty as he expected, with a large stone slab against the wall opposite the door. Having found Rael’s resting place, Cor returned to the ground level.
Cor gathered Rael’s belongings at the top of the stairs; the man had little, only his armor, sword and journal. Cor took the items down to the crypt he had selected and placed the sword in the northeast corner as prescribed, and the armor, which took two trips, he laid neatly in the northwest corner. Cor hesitated before placing the journal at one end of the stone slab. He’d seen journals of other Dahken in the study, but he was certain they were copies. The original belonged with the man who penned it. He left the crypt, headed back upstairs, and used his torch to light several torches in sconces on the way.
Cor returned to the wagon, which still held Rael’s body. He gently pulled the man to the end of the wagon until Rael’s head fell of the edge and hung downwards unnaturally. Cor looped his arms under the man’s shoulders and pulled backward. Rael was not a large man; in fact, Cor was actually slightly taller, but the sudden weight of Rael’s limp body falling to the ground overpowered him. Cor fell backwards onto the ground, Rael’s body lying in a heap in front of him. Cor didn’t know why, but he was certain he owed this to Rael.
He steeled him
Once he began moving steadily, Cor found the weight relatively easy to bear. He had a task to complete; Rael was owed the burial of a Dahken. Cor thought about this as he walked, wondering if he was now a true Dahken beyond definition of his blood. For that matter, was he the only one left? He regained focus on his task once he reached the stairs. He had lit several torches on his way up, but the climb down would still be treacherous. The stairs were less than safe when one wasn’t carrying a body. Cor briefly considered dragging Rael down the steps, but quickly convinced himself that would be unwise. If he dragged Rael by the shoulders, no doubt the weight would cause him to lose balance and tumble down the stairs, and dragging the man by his ankles to slowly bash the back of his head in on each stone stair simply would not do. Cor carried Rael this far; he simply must continue.
Cor took the first step gingerly, stepping down with his left foot, followed by his right. He felt the weight on his shoulders keenly as he took the second step in the same manner. He took each step down the first twenty one steps to the landing one at a time as if each one were a challenge in itself, before turning and starting down the second set. By the time he was halfway down these, Cor had become relatively comfortable with the rhythm of his task, and though his muscles began to complain from the effort, he made it to the catacombs without incident.
Cor carried the body to the crypt he had selected, now containing Rael’s few personal items. He reached the door, realizing with a sigh of relief that he had left it ajar, for the closer he got to the final destination, the more tired his muscles became. He entered the crypt, lit inside by a single flickering torch and turned backwards laying Rael’s corpse onto the large slab as gently as he could. Cor turned around and arrayed the man in repose legs and arms straight, his hands at his sides.
Cor understood that typically one of his fellow Dahken would speak, summarizing Rael’s accomplishments, but unfortunately, Cor realized he knew very little about the man, except that he had found, protected and taught Cor of his own strength. Cor hoped that Rael’s journal set at the foot of his resting place would serve to fulfill such requirements. There was but one other action to take before closing the crypt, and as the most powerful Dahken present, Cor drew a small knife and lightly pierced the tip of his left index finger. A small amount of blood quickly welled up from the tiny cut, and Cor pressed it to Rael’s forehead, thus anointing him. Cor wiped the knife’s point on the leg of his breeches and sheathed it. He turned and left the crypt, closing the door behind him.
15.