Realm of the dead, p.3
Realm of the Dead, page 3
part #1 of Empire Paladin Series
The rider of the black stallion removed her helmet revealing a woman of fiercely intense and flashing eyes, her dark skin the color of polished, black pearl. Her jet-black hair was cropped short to the back of her neck and her eyes gleamed a brilliant hazel. She was taller than most women and sat high in the saddle, her back as straight as a marble column, an air of imperious regality about her. Upon her left arm she bore a round, steel, buckler shield with a notched and beaten image of a great tree; perhaps a depiction of the Tree of Life. Sheathed at her side was a longsword with black leather wrapping on the handle. Upon her shoulders she wore a dark green cloak trimmed with a golden border.
The rider of the red bay charger also removed his helmet. He was a young man, perhaps in his early twenties, with dark brown hair and a few days’ worth of beard stubble across his face; skin tone a deep, burnished copper. His brown eyes were keen and piercing over a sharp nose. Broad-shouldered, lean, and wiry, he carried himself in the saddle with fluid grace.
On his left arm, he also bore a buckler shield depicting an image of a red lion standing on its hindlegs, forelegs clawing at the air. At his waist, a flange mace—nearly two feet in length—swung with the movement of his mount. The mace head consisted of five triangular shaped blades pointing outward from the steel center; a mace that would easily cut through flesh, bone, and steel. The handle of the mace was wrapped with worn and supple brown leather. Upon the man’s shoulders he wore a simple, weather-beaten, black cloak.
The woman—gleaming hazel eyes flashing with fury—sharply scolded the advancing rider of the white charger. “Camila! Where the hell have you been? We’ve been searching all over for you!”
Camila Chastaine rode over to the two paladins and stopped before them, saluting the woman. “Talitha, you needn’t have concerned yourselves much with my whereabouts. I assure you, I’m quite capable of protecting myself.”
Camila had known Lady Talitha Attias for many years. They had attended the paladin academy together and had become fast friends. Upon completing their paladin training, she and Talitha had been assigned to outposts in realms quite distant from one another. Several years passed before they were again reunited in their current assignment in this realm of Austria.
“Yes, I realize you are a capable fighter, Camila,” Talitha replied. “It would still be helpful if you would let us know when you are simply going to disappear on some mad errand.”
“Talitha, you surprise me!” Camila retorted. “Certainly by now you know that I do not have any “mad” errands. Everything I do, I do with purpose.”
“What were you doing anyhow?” the man at Talitha’s side inquired.
This man was Lord Atrael Hylas, who had just been recently assigned to Austria to replace a paladin who had been dispatched to another realm. Atrael was the son of one of the twelve primus paladins, Lord Robert Hylas, which only made things more complicated. Ser Atrael Hylas owed a significant part of his acceptance into the Order of Paladins due to his father’s high rank and status as one of the twelves primuses. This led to a greater amount of scrutiny, from the other high-ranking paladins, being devoted to Atrael’s progress in the Order.
Camila had no direct evidence but she suspected that Atrael’s father had some involvement in Atrael’s field assignment to Camila’s post in Austria. While the post had its share of perils, it was within the realm of the Holy Roman Empire and not on the northern borderlands where the more lawless, marauding hordes roamed.
Nonetheless, Camila had to be careful in how she dealt with Atrael as it would reflect poorly on her leadership should any great harm or ill fates befall him. Camila’s own goal to eventually be anointed one of the primus paladins would heavily depend upon her conduct as the captain of the paladins stationed within the Duchy of Austria and any reports Atrael would invariably discuss with his father.
Atrael’s combat skills were in need of refinement, but he made up for it in his healing abilities. Camila had never seen such raw talent when it came to restoring torn, rent, flesh and gaping wounds. Perhaps it would have been better had he become a priest instead. Less dangerous for him as well.
Camila paused momentarily carefully considering her response to Atrael’s question of her latest activities. “If you are so curious as to my recent actions, Atrael, know that I was meting out the Lord’s justice.”
Talitha glared at Camila, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Camila, do not tell me you have once again acted as judge and executioner upon some perceived criminal.”
“I brought a sinner to justice,” Camila responded flatly.
“And who was it this time?” asked Talitha. “What right do you think you have to summarily put people to death?”
Camila did not respond.
“Camila!” Talitha stormed. “If and when Duke Frederick finds out about your acts of “justice”, he’s going to have your head. His rule is the law of this land and he won’t tolerate you superseding it.”
Locking eyes with Talitha, Camila said flatly, “the Duke would have done nothing more than given this particular miscreant a tongue lashing, and perhaps a few nights in a dungeon…if even that.”
“Camila, you cannot presume as to what the Duke will do or not do. You didn’t even give him a chance to provide his judgment now have you? You simply decide to handle things your own way.”
“What I do is the judgment of God; no one else,” Camila said again flatly.
“You know our decree, Camila,” Atrael interjected. “We are subject to the Duke’s laws. We are simply protectors and enforcers of that law as mandated by the Holy Church. The Holy Church wants to strengthen relations with these surrounding realms. We can’t do that if we simply go about making up our own laws as we see fit.”
Camila glared at Atrael. “There is no higher law than the law of God. You would do well to remember that, Atrael.”
Camila spurred her horse and galloped past the two paladins.
* * *
As the three paladins rode into the city of Vienna, the city where the Duke kept his throne, Camila halted her horse to observe a small boy in rough, woolen clothes and dirty, bare feet shaking a wooden sword at a small, brown, floppy-eared dog. The child would point the sword at the dog, contort his face in concentration and then shake the wooden toy vigorously at the perplexed animal. The dog, for its part, cocked its head curiously at the boy and then proceeded to run around in circles yelping excitedly, stopping occasionally to again cock its head inquisitively at the child between fits of barking.
The scene was quite odd and perplexing. It didn’t seem as if the child was trying to hit the dog with the wooden sword. He was only pointing and shaking the stick weapon at the animal. The little child continued to repeat this bizarre behavior and then stamp his feet angrily when nothing came of his exertions. The other two paladins joined Camila to see what had caught her attention.
The boy dropped his sword arm to his side, took a deep breath, and then again began to point and shake the weapon at the little dog. The sound of hooves and jangling chain mail from behind him caught his attention and he turned quickly about. His eyes grew wide as he saw the paladins watching him.
Camila dismounted and walked over to the apprehensive boy. “What are you trying to do to that dog with that sword,” she asked the lad.
He held it out to her as if hoping the sword would answer her question. He stammered and looked over at the little dog that was now seated on its haunches peering back at them, tongue hanging out and panting. “I’m trying to make a beam of fire light come out of it, like the paladins can do, and hit Kimba,” the little boy declared.
Camila smiled and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Only paladins are able to do that, I’m afraid. And it only works against agents of evil…such as demons or an undead corpse such as a necromancer might raise from the grave. Unless your dog has somehow become possessed by a demon, I seriously doubt she’s an agent of evil.”
The boy’s eye became as large as saucers. “Do you mean monsters like devils and werewolves?!”
“Devils certainly,” replied Camila. “I’m not sure about werewolves. I’ve never seen one of those. If you become a paladin, then you will be able to strike down the minions of Hell, like devils and zombies, with the divine, holy light from your weapon.”
Camila unsheathed her warhammer and held it out for the boy to admire. A radiant, golden light began to pulsate from within the head of the weapon.
“You’re a paladin!” exclaimed the child. “Can you teach me how to do that?”
“Yes, I’m a paladin, but it takes many years to learn how to focus the power of the Holy Light through your weapon. And it’s actually quite rare that you would ever have to use such a power as we paladins do not encounter demons and the like all that often. I, myself, have only encountered a few lesser demons and they fled before I could destroy them.”
“What if I become a paladin? Could I do it then?” the boy asked, his eyes very hopeful.
“Not many are able to become paladins,” replied Camila. “It takes a strong faith and belief in God to become a paladin; as well as being blessed with a divine healing power. How strong is your faith?” she asked the boy.
“I don’t like going to church,” he grumbled. “It takes too long and Father John falls asleep all the time.”
Camila smiled at that remark. “Well, that’s the only way you can become a paladin,” she declared straightening up. “Although God may shine his light upon you. He works in mysterious ways.”
“I remember a wizard that lived here for a while,” the boy declared, his eyes bright. “He could do all sorts of things. He could make fire rings and clouds of smoke and could turn a rabbit into a frog. And he could make rocks fly through the air! I don’t remember him going to church. I don’t think he believed in God. Why could he do all that stuff?”
Camila frowned, annoyed. “Wizards don’t believe that God gives them their powers. They believe they have the power within themselves and from the elements about them.”
“I think I’ll be a wizard,” the boy declared with finality. He took his wooden sword and ran off in search of other pursuits, perhaps in search of a wizard to teach him the ways of magic. Yapping excitedly, the dog, Kimba, followed closely at her master’s heels.
Behind Camila, her fellow paladins laughed at the scene.
“Bravo, Camila!” Talitha clapped her hands with great mirth. “Another potential recruit lost to the powers of sorcery! Perhaps you yourself should join the wizard’s guild! You’re better at filling their ranks than you are those of the paladin Order!” Talitha continued to chortle at her friend in amusement.
Camila shook her head and glared at Talitha. She mounted her charger and rode into the city as her friends continued to joke at her expense.
Chapter 4: UNTIL DEATH DO US PART
- March of Brandenburg: Month of August, Year of Our Lord 1241.
The paladin drove his horse relentlessly until the beast was foaming at the mouth and lathered in sweat. Still he spurred the charger onward. When at last the charger refused to move at more than a slow trot, Vhaldrynn Malleus caught sight of a mounted patrol and commandeered possession of a fresh steed. He drove that horse just as hard. He knew that no matter how fast he rode, the outcome would remain unchanged; yet still he dug his spurs into the unfortunate horse’s sides.
Day turned to night and Vhaldrynn road onward.
As the first rays of dawn shown over the land, a cavalry of mounted soldiers came into view on the horizon and Vhaldrynn reined his mount to a halt. They flew a standard of a golden lion against a red backdrop. Austorburg colors, Lord Markkus Toure’s men. Vhaldrynn kicked his steed to join them, hailing the captain of the cavalry.
“What news of Schimmerholz?” he inquired of the captain. “Has the battle been joined?”
“Lord Malleus, would that we met on more favorable circumstances,” came the reply. “Lord Toure commandeered a thousand mounted strong, but the invaders from Stettin retreated across the river before we could intercept them. They seemed to care about naught else but striking quickly and setting fire to as many buildings as they were able. They pillaged and looted parts of the town and then fled like the cowards they are!”
Scowling in disappointment, Vhaldrynn looked out to the east where the town of Schimmerholz lay. He had hoped to set upon those who would attack such a peaceful village with a righteous and wrathful vengeance; to deal out so great an amount of pain and death as they would never consider such an attack again. There would be time enough to administer the transgressors’ punishment. Of immediate concern was the well-being of his family.
He thanked the captain, saluted, and continued down the road to the town of Schimmerholz.
* * *
At last Vhaldrynn came within of view of his hometown which lay at the foot of an expanse of rolling and thickly wooded hills that ran off into the east. Taking its name, Schimmerholz, from the surrounding, lush forests of expansive, silver, linden trees; these being large deciduous trees that could grow to over a hundred feet in height with naturally shiny leaves that seemed to “shimmer” when blown by the wind. At any other time, the town would have been a sight of bustling merchants, mundane daily life, and a welcoming invitation to the weary traveler. Now as fires raged and smoke rose into the sky above the town, it made for a macabre feeling of déjà vu as Vhaldrynn had set his eyes upon a similar scene near the city of Demmin not a few days prior. Soldiers and mounted cavalry made their way towards the town whilst shaken, terrified residents headed in the opposite direction carrying what few possessions they could manage.
Why had the attackers come from Stettin?
The city of Stettin lay within the realm of Pomerania which still remained loyal to the Holy Roman Empire. The steward of Stettin, Duke Barnim, had sworn fealty to John I, Margrave of Brandenburg, which brought the city under the protection of the Empire. There could be nothing gained by attacking a helpless town such as Schimmerholz unless Duke Barnim had ordered the assault desiring to expand his own territories. Vhaldrynn knew that Duke Barnim still chaffed against being made a vassal of the margrave of Brandenburg as well as his discontent at having to share his rule of Pomerania with his cousin, Duke Wartislaw. But if Barnim was behind this attack, it would be tantamount to suicide, political and actual.
Madness and greed were gripping the land.
Vhaldrynn rode through the outskirts of Schimmerholz. His home, where he had last left his wife and daughters, was on the northeastern part of the town. Tendrils of smoke rose from that direction and Vhaldrynn could only steel himself from the growing fear in his gut as he continued down the street. Throughout the village, members of the military and others who had come to the town’s aid, dowsed smoldering fires and gave assistance to the injured and terrified populace.
Vhaldrynn’s home was set back slightly up a hill along with a few neighboring houses. The pillagers had spared nothing in this area of the town. All of the homes had been reduced to smoldering rubble and charred beams.
Vhaldrynn swung himself off of his mount and one of his knees buckled as his strength left him. He pulled himself upright and stumbled toward what remained of his residence, the home of his family, sanctuary of his loved ones.
No one had yet been to this part of the town to stamp out the smoldering fires or look for survivors. The flames had consumed for themselves of all the fuel they could find. On legs that felt as though made of straw, Vhaldrynn lurched through the ruins and then came upon what he dreaded most.
The skeleton was burnt black, completely unrecognizable. Barely discernible was a small chain hanging from about the neck of the corpse. And on that chain was a teardrop shaped, diamond pendant that the hottest fires would never be able to destroy. A gift Vhaldrynn had given so long ago to his most beloved.
His wife Heather.
Vhaldrynn fell to his knees, touched the diamond pendant softly, and then let loose a mournful wail of such pain that certainly chilled the blood of anyone nearby.
* * *
Two other charred bodies, much smaller, were nearby the corpse of his wife; Taya and Jennika, his two beautiful daughters. They would have run to their mother for safety, safety she had been unable to provide, safety that should have been provided to them from her paladin husband. He had not been there when they needed him most. He had been off defending other lives when the lives most important to Vhaldrynn were in their moment of greatest peril.
Vhaldrynn hoped they did not suffer. He hoped that they did not feel any pain in their last moments. He hoped that the smoke had choked them to death before the fires touched their skin. Taya, his eldest daughter of seven years who looked so much like her mother with the same chestnut brown hair; and Jennika, of nearly five years, possessing the raven, black locks and sharp nose of her father.
God, I hope they knew no anguish, no agony in their final moments.
A contingent of soldiers now made their way into this northeastern part of town. Vhaldrynn ordered them to fetch a coffin and linens. He would gather up every bit of what remained of his family and give them a proper funeral, a proper burial. They would not suffer to lie like this, out in the elements, out in the open where curious eyes could chance upon them.
* * *
He gathered up his family’s remains and gently, lovingly folded them into the linen cloths that were provided; placing the three bundled corpses into a single casket as there was room enough so thoroughly had the fire burned the flesh from the bones. His wife and their daughters would rest together now for all of eternity.
* * *
Vhaldrynn sat upon the ground near the ruins of his home, in a stupor, and gazed about him. He knew not how long he’d been sitting there and his soldiers seemed to realize that it was best not to disturb him in his moment of grief as none had returned after delivering the coffin and linens.
