The King's room had been cleared of courtiers with only the Slave-Trader King, the One and several guards present. The King lounged upon the thick cushions of his great couch as bronze braziers cast a hard yellow glow about the room. Once more the King regarded his new prize as he waited for Aunt to answer his summons. The One was a magnificent specimen indeed, thought the King. It was too bad he was not a slave, but turning so gifted a warrior into one of the 'Shackled' would ruin him. However, the One seemed more than content to give his service for silver which was fine by the King.
No man but himself was free in the City. If not bound by rope, collar or chain, then it was obligation or greed which held fast those who lived here. One way or the other, he owned them all and for all his prowess the One was no different. Looking to the man calmly seated cross-legged on a plush cushion the King said, "Were the last opponents to your liking?" The black cloth covered face tilted upwards and replied, "Great King, they were adequate." Chuckling the King shot back, "Adequate you say? Ha! Even six deadly warriors fighting for their freedom could not tax you. Remarkable!"
Outside the closed King's Room, a sudden flash of yellow light forced its way through the seams and space beneath the bronze bound doors. Looking away from the One the King said, "At last, my Aunt has answered my summons." The doors opened and a woman bent with age and covered from head to toe in elaborate red on black garments tapped her way into the chamber. All except for the King and the One dropped their heads at her arrival. The King waited patiently for the venerable witch to come alongside the still seated One and place her withered black hand upon his shoulder.
"Ah my child, you have been performing for my nephew again. How many miscreants and slave offal did he 'feed' you this time?" The One tilted his masked face up toward the uncovered eyes of Aunt and replied, "This time it was six great lady." Her tinder dry voice sparked with ill-fitting mirth as she chortled, "Six? My nephew has no imagination whatsoever. My child, you will one day face down armies! Six indeed...." "If you are through petting my man like a pet lion Aunt, I would have news of your progress on the latest scheme you're hatching."
Her nephew's sardonic tone was not lost upon the ears of the witch. Despite the pure respect she'd received from his predecessors, her availability to him these past ten years allowed the seed of 'contempt' to grow within him. Such contempt to her mind, would lead to his undoing. Walking toward the King's couch, Aunt with cane tapping gave forth to her insolent nephew. "Greetings my King. I have good tidings to share."
With his Aunt now much closer, the King put a perfumed multi-colored satin scarf to his nose and snarled, "Been to the 'underworld' again I smell. You reek of brimstone!" Showing no sign of insult, the witch bowed slightly and replied, "My apologies my King for I offend. Yet such inconvenience shall be worth it in the larger scheme." Disappointed as to not have ranked the hag, the King relented. "All right my Aunt, tell me of these 'good tidings' you bring."
Pleased that subtlety put the King in his place as always, Aunt uncovered the head of her cane revealing the glowing yellow stone. Both the King and the One gasped at the sight. Nearly stumbling after jumping off his couch, the King rushed over to his Aunt and dropped to one knee before her. His eyes transfixed upon the yellow stone the Slave-Trader King blurted, "You did it! After all these years... it's true!" Looking up to those fierce gray-rimmed brown eyes, the King asked, "So the Keybearer is here at last?"
Giving her nephew a nod Aunt replied, "Yes. He is no doubt already in the palace. Soon the Key will be in our hands and I will be able to summon the Gatebringer! Once more the way to the Sacred Land will be opened and great power will be ours for the taking!" Aunt could see the naked lust for power burning in her nephew's brown eyes. In spite of all he already had at his command, his greed compelled him to acquire ever more. Now she must take advantage of such bare-faced avarice in order to see through her scheme.
"My King, you must capture the Keybearer and obtain the glowing stone he holds. Send your men to search for him." Still under the spell of the glowing stone the King replied, "Of course my Aunt. Guards, see to the capture of an intruder within the palace!" Leaning closer to her nephew Aunt then said, "One more thing my dear King, I request you send the One with your men. If the Keybearer turns out to be formidable, your men may not be able to contain him." His gaze unwavering from the stone the King replied, "As you wish my Aunt. I give the One leave to pursue the Keybearer. Such beautiful light...."
The witch waited until the One and the last of the guards departed and the doors were closed. Aunt placed her withered hand upon the King's satin covered shoulder as he continued to stare into the stone's glow. "Now my insolent child, come with me and I shall show you the path to power. You shall take your rightful place by my side and enter the Sacred Land." The witch covered the stone and the King stood up and said, "I summoned you ages ago! What held you from my presence?" Giving a slight bow, the witch replied, "I beg forgiveness my King. I am ready to show you all that I have been working towards these many years."
With a skeptical glance the King scoffed, "I suppose you've found your 'Sacred Land' then?" The witch nodded making the red cloth of her headress sway. Exuding impatience, the King strode past his Aunt saying, "Well it's about time! Let's have a look at what you've accomplished." Bowing as her nephew went by, Aunt said, "Indeed my King we shall see...."
****
"Dark! Why is it always dark? I don't think it's this damn dark in Hel's asshole!" The Chief's grumbling fell on unconcerned ears for the only other living things were the numerous creatures crawling through the darkness as he did. Despite the pitch dark, the directions given by the Knight proved sound. As he felt his way around the last corner, the Chief found himself in a small chamber facing a wooden ladder just where the Knight said it would be. A short climb put the Chief below a thick wooden grate. Putting some muscle to the grate, it popped up with a slight creaking.
The Chief put eyes on the adobe corridor and saw no movement. Exiting the grated hole, he kept a watchful eye while searching for the passage needed among the four present. Finding the one the Knight described, hugging the walls the Chief slipped into the shadowed passage. One thing was sure, he was not fond of sneaking around. He'd much rather kick down some doors with a few dozen warriors at his back!
The Chief comforted his concerns by realizing when he found his men, he'd have more than a dozen men no doubt ready for blood! They had better be to escape this massive citadel. The Chief was amazed by what he'd seen so far. From what the Knight told him, everything in this grand city was built on the backs of slaves. For hundreds of years no army had breached its walls. Those who tried either bent their necks in capitulation or saw their meager survivors upon the auction block.
The sounds of heavy footfalls from men and dragging chains began to grow in the passageway. After a semi-quiet dash to the passage junction, the Chief put eyes around the corner. Bearing lanterns was a large dusky skinned man flanked by black warriors. Behind them were a group of men shackled together by iron chains. They were urged along by whip-wielders. The men were covered in filth and many of their faces were obscured by long matted hair. The Chief could not suppress a wolfish grin for without doubt he had found his men!
How to free them from their captors was the problem. The corridor was narrow and would aid in the confusion from an ambush. But his men being chained together tightly as they were, wouldn't allow them any room to move. As the procession drew closer, the Chief was desperate for inspiration! He then spied the very lanterns carried by the approaching warriors. Just when the nearest warrior's lantern crossed the threshold of the junction, the Chief snatched the device away and flung it to the floor amidst the warriors!
The small group of warriors were momentarily frozen in place as flames leaped before them. Illuminated by the sudden burst of light was a strange man-like creature covered in muck and smelling like it crawled up from the land of the dead! Before the nearest warrior could cry out, his head fell from his shoulders in a shower of blood. Another guard flinching from the blood spray suddenly found sewer filthy iron driven through the meat of his neck. A wave of panic started to take all the men in the tunnel as the beast's roar echoed in their ears.
One of the warriors maintained his composure and started forward only to have his momentum rudely checked chain bound hands swarming over him. Roaring like a maddened bear, the Chief leaped over the dying flames onto the last standing warrior. Emboldened by the sudden change of fortunes, the warrior spun his spear blocking the Chief's rapid two sword attack. Sliding the haft end of his spear abruptly, the warrior slipped through the Chief's guard to strike a scraping blow across his chest. Just as quick, the bladed end slid backwards into the thigh of a chained prisoner.
The Chief's sudden dodge spared him a broken breastbone. Yet, the pain of the spear-butt scraping away skin through his muck encrusted shirt made him cry out. A shock of recognition flooded through him and forced him to dodge. He'd seen that maneuver before! With the crippling wound inflicted on the chained prisoner, the momentum instantly shifted back towards the captors. The wounded man fell dragging his weakened fellows down with him. At their rear, the whip bearers spared no prisoner searing strokes from the lash. The Chief saw the sudden change in the situation and could not allow this chance to free his men slip away.
Pressing his attack, the Chief wove an intricate pattern of sword strokes which little by little wore away the warrior's fire-hardened spear shaft. With one savage stroke, the weapon was split down the middle. To the sound of prisoners being subdued by multiple whips, the helmeted warrior fluidly slid backwards avoiding the Chief's powerful blow. All the hair on Chief Svengald's neck and back stood on end. The maneuver was somewhat crudely executed, but again he'd seen it before. Now holding both shorter sections of the spear, the warrior laughed as if he'd been given a much wanted gift. The Chief knew that laugh and it froze his blood.
Looking at the slender but powerfully built warrior, the Chief nearly out of breath barked in the trading language taught him by the Knight, "Take off your helmet!" The warrior stopped suddenly and the Chief held his guard. With a deft single hand change of position, the warrior stuck the spear into the adobe brick floor. He took off the hammered iron helmet to reveal a head covered in black cloth. A tsunami of goose-pimples rose over the Chief's filthy skin as he instantly recognized the man the Valley Knight warned him about. Despite the black cloth covering most of the warrior's face and the slighter muscular build, it was unmistakable to the Chief's eyes. Before him stood a younger version of the Valley Knight!
The younger version of his friend and comrade in arms took a confident stride forward and said, "Are you the one I'm searching for?" Now the Chief was confused. Still speaking in the trading language Svengald replied, "The 'one' for what?" With dark eyes smiling above his mask the warrior retorted, "Don't be shy. You've lasted longer than any man has against me. You even managed to avoid a stroke which has killed many with but a scratch! The witch said you would come for these wretches Keybearer. If you want them, come take them...."
© 2011 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.
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