Blood and Steel (The Cor Chronicles Volume I) by Martin Parece II
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The next morning, the steward awakened Cor immediately at sunrise, providing him with a full suit of polished black chain mail, sabatons, gauntlets and a slightly oversized helm with visor and chain mail cowl. He also carried a black silk surcoat emblazoned with the Taraq’nok’s emblem, and the steward asked that Cor ready himself with all speed and meet the Loszian in his library. Cor had always thought chain mail was the easiest armor for a warrior don; it simply went on much like normal clothing. Cor, having only ever had mismatched bits of armor, never realized just how much the steel could weigh once he was fully encased in it.
Ready, Cor made his way to the library, carrying the helm under one arm. Upon entering, he found Taraq’nok, his steward and one other soldier who was completely clad head to toe in the same armor. Taraq’nok was on his hands and knees in a most undignified position, drawing a large circle and intricate patterns within it on the floor. The steward immediately walked over to Cor and began straightening the armor and surcoat, saying that Cor had put it on in a most unkempt manner. The steward commanded Cor to put on the helm so that he could make certain everything was in its proper place, and satisfied, the steward announced that Cor was ready to leave. Taraq’nok, also finished with his task, stood up and looked Cor over.
“Dahken Cor, you must leave your sword and the fetish here. If the sword’s obviously magical nature does not draw attention, I am certain that would,” he said, pointing to Ebonwing. “Besides, bringing weapons to such a gathering would be… frowned upon.”
Cor was surprised; he hadn’t realized he had actually belted his weapons, and he supposed it was just his nature at this point. He removed Soulmourn and Ebonwing, but suddenly found himself quite reluctant to give them up. With great reassurances from the steward that they would be protected with utmost care, Cor finally released them.
Taraq’nok bid Cor come stand in the circle behind him and slightly to the left, while the other soldier stood behind him to the right. The Loszian explained that transporting oneself was relatively easy, if consumptive of power, but to transport multiple bodies required them to stand inside such emblem such as the one he had inscribed on the floor. The larger the circle, the more persons could be sent of course, but the spell became an exponential draw on the sorcerer’s power. Taraq’nok reminded Cor to follow him wordlessly and to obey his commands without hesitation.
The Loszian weaved his hands in the somatic movements of a spell, though he intoned nothing. His hands moved about for several seconds, and Cor could feel the hair all over his body stand on end, or at least try to as it was hampered by his armor. The Loszians fingertips began to glow with a soft purple light, followed by the entirety of his hands, and then he clapped them together sharply. As he had seen months ago, a brilliant flash of light filled Cor’s vision, and he felt disoriented, sure that his feet no longer touched solid ground.
The sensation passed almost as quickly as it had come, and Cor found himself standing in position in a small room with an arched open doorway, in which a man stood considering them. He was of Loszian blood, though clearly mixed, and likely not as pure as Taraq’nok as he only stood about two inches taller than Cor. He had short kept black hair and wore a tunic and breeches of silver silk.
“Lord Taraq’nok, we have awaited your arrival. Please follow me to await trial,” he said.
They followed the Loszian down a narrow corridor into a small room lit by two torches, and Cor walked in measured step behind Taraq’nok, careful to keep the proper place. The visor on his helm obscured his vision, but he could see that whatever structure they were in was made of the same black rock as Taraq’nok’s castle. Taraq’nok had said that all Loszian lords used this material, and again Cor wondered as to its origin. The room had another door, which the short Loszian ducked through into a room beyond that was much larger. Cor paid little attention, as his gaze was on the near giant form of Lord Menak.
“Ah Menak,” sighed Taraq’nok, “So you are my accuser in this trial.”
“No, I accuse no one,” the taller Loszian replied. “The emperor is your accuser. I am merely here to testify as to what I saw.”
“And what was that Lord Menak?”
“One of your men paid me to allow him access to the mountain pass, saying that he was sent by you to retrieve a Westerner. As it turned out, this Westerner was in fact a Dahken, and I allowed your servant and the Dahken free passage into the empire.
“Taraq’nok, I could care less about your schemes. I moved to guard the mountain pass as I wished to be away from my fellow Loszians and their constantly entangling plans. I testify only because I have no choice if I wish to avoid the emperor’s wrath,” explained Menak.
“Fear not Lord Menak,” Taraq’nok answered, placing his right hand on Menak’s shoulder. “I understand your motives, and I am not angry with you. However, I owe you no boon as you suggested as the Dahken is dead.”
“Very well then. Hopefully this will not take long.”
The man in silver returned, opening the door and allowing the small group to leave into the larger room beyond, but to say it was larger would be a gross understatement. They entered a hall that, architecturally, was little different from the several he had seen already, but it was absolutely enormous, dwarfing even the palace in Byrverus. The floor, walls, ceiling and dozens of columns were all made from the same Loszian stone, and many of the columns carried graven images of Loszians, presumably past emperors. Cor struggled to keep himself under control as he marveled at the shear size of the hall.
They were led to the bottom of a dozen black steps that led, in typical fashion, to a large platform upon which sat an empty throne. The throne gleamed in the light, which had no source, and Cor was certain it was made of solid platinum. On each step, flanking a gold carpet that led up to the throne, sat two slaves, one male and one female. They were mere children, none of them out of adolescence, and all of them completely nude. The children were chained together by the neck in a long row down the steps, and the display made Cor’s blood boil. It took all of his willpower to maintain his calm.
A door opened from behind the throne, and in walked another Loszian, this one as tall as Lord Menak. He was completely bald, adding to the completely inhuman look the Loszians had, and he was clad in silks of silver and black. He walked forward and stood in front of the throne, and the small group, Cor included, bowed in the customary manner. The emperor sat in his platinum throne, and the group rose to its feet.
“Sovereign,” said the shorter silver clad Loszian, “Lord Taraq’nok has come to answer for his crimes. I also present Lord Menak who will testify against him.”
“Taraq’nok,” the emperor’s voice boomed unnaturally through the hall, and Cor was certain that the Loszian chaffed at the lack of his title, “you are accused of ignoring imperial edict. You actively sought a Dahken from the Shining West and bought his access into Losz. Lord Menak, deliver your testimony.”
Menak recounted the same story he had told Taraq’nok, though this time with more detail. He described the Dahken to the best of his knowledge, explaining that he was an apparently young man and clearly skilled in the ways of combat. Taraq’nok listened with his practiced impassiveness and did not interrupt Menak at any point. When Menak concluded, the emperor again spoke to Taraq’nok.
“Lord Taraq’nok, is this true?”
“Yes, Sovereign.”
“Then you admit to a crime for which the penalty is death.”
“No, Sovereign,” contradicted Taraq’nok.
“You dare call a Loszian of true blood a liar?” the emperor asked with an edge to his voice. Taraq’nok’s eyes flashed momentarily, and Cor was certain an insult had been hurled at him.
“No, Sovereign,” Taraq’nok answered, his calm returned. “The events as they occurred to that point are true, but I am in no way harboring the Dahken. In fact, I have brought him as a gift to you Sovereign.”
“Take off your helm,” he commanded the armored form, who reached up and slid the helm up over its head. Cor recognized him; he had seen this man underneath Taraq’nok’s library. He was about Cor’s age and of similar height, with the dark hair of a Westerner. There was no ignoring the man’s deathly pallor, but his eyes were glazed over and unseeing.
“Taraq’nok, you would have me believe that this walking corpse is the Dahken?” the emperor’s voice boomed with anger.
“Yes, Sovereign,” Taraq’nok said, turning back to the emperor. “I have slain him and raised him as a gift to you Sovereign. He has several most unfortunate wounds under the armor, but he is completely functional.”
“Lord Menak, is this the man you saw?” the emperor asked.
Menak stared at the armored figure for a long moment and cut his eyes at Taraq’nok, something the emperor could not have seen as Menak’s back was to him, before answering. “Yes, Sovereign.”
“Very well. Lord Taraq’nok, your gift is accepted, but in the future simply bringing the Dahken’s head would be just as appreciated.”
Cor followed Taraq’nok back to the side room, where the necromancer again drew the complex symbols surrounded by a circle on the floor. Cor said nothing and simply waited, though it appeared they were alone, until he had completed the spell, and they arrived back in the library. Cor immediately kicked his full weight right into the Loszian’s back, knocking Taraq’nok sprawling across the floor. The steward immediately stepped forward and Thyss, who had apparently been sitting in the library with her legs casually crossed over each other on a table, jumped to her feet.
“Damn you Loszian!” Cor shouted. “You didn’t think I would recognize that man? Why did you kill him?” Cor’s every pore was ablaze, and his palms itched for Soulmourn and Ebonwing.
“What would you have me do, Dahken Cor?” Taraq’nok asked as he sat up. “I had to present a dead Dahken to the emperor. I could have easily presented a live one in you. Then you would be dead; would that have been preferable to you?”
“You didn’t have to kill him!” Cor raged.
“Didn’t I? What else could I have done? If I had given him to the emperor alive, he would not have corroborated Menak’s story, and all of our lives would have been forfeit. Think Cor, and you will realize it was unavoidable without killing you instead.”
“It is not even yet noon,” Cor said, slowing his breath. “Thyss and I leave at noon to find Lord Dahken Noth, and I expect we’ll be back in a week. When I return, I want those bars removed from the cages and every person down there restored. I want them made comfortable, especially the children. Do what you have to do.” Cor stormed from the library, collecting Soulmourn and Ebonwing on his way out.
32.