Malison: Dragon Umbra Read online

  “My lord,” said Tyrcamber. He found Rudolf, who assigned him a dozen serjeants, and they rode to find Sir Angaric. The other knight sat atop his horse, scowling at the militia as they labored to dig the mass grave for the dead muridachs.

  “Sir Tyrcamber,” said Angaric. “A sharp little fight, wasn’t it?” He grimaced behind his bushy beard. “Nothing smells quite so foul as burned muridach.”

  “That’s why we joined the Order,” said Tyrcamber. “To find new and exotic odors.”

  Angaric snorted. “It was a damned peculiar attack. Out of character for the muridachs. They don’t even like attacking during the day. I’d be willing to believe the muridachs would knife us all in our beds. But lining up in battle formation like that? Damned peculiar.”

  “The Master has a task for us,” said Tyrcamber. “We’re to examine the western hill and see where those soldiers from Falconberg were digging.”

  That caught Angaric’s attention. “I was wondering that myself. Mining rights, indeed! A rubbish excuse. There are easier places to find coal and ore. The richest vein of ore in the world will do no good if you dig up a hibernating ursaar or a nest of urvaalgs.”

  “Agreed,” said Tyrcamber. “So, let’s go see what Gantier’s soldiers tried to dig up.”

  They rode southwest towards the hill with the crumbling dark elven tower. Tyrcamber caught sight of a large patch of disturbed earth halfway up the slope. He held up a hand for a halt and then swung down from his saddle.

  Angaric followed suit with a grunt. “Do we really have to approach on foot?”

  “Rocky slope,” said Tyrcamber as the serjeants dismounted. “One of the horses might break a leg.”

  “I might break a leg,” complained Angaric.

  “I won’t have to put you down if you do,” said Tyrcamber. He detailed two men to guard the horses and then started up the hill, Angaric and the ten serjeants following him.

  The slope was indeed rocky, with numerous boulders jutting from the soil, and tough grasses and small trees grew from the earth. Tyrcamber was no expert on mining, but he doubted this hill contained ore of any kind.

  So why had Gantier’s men been digging here?

  Tyrcamber, Angaric, and the ten serjeants kept climbing. Angaric wheezed a little from the strain, though he kept up with the other men. The patch of disturbed earth came into sight, and Tyrcamber saw that the men of Falconberg had dug six feet into the hillside, throwing the dislodged earth and boulders down the slope.

  He came to an abrupt stop, his hand falling to his sword hilt.

  The diggers had unearthed a doorway.

  An archway of white stone opened into the hill’s interior, revealing a corridor leading into the darkness below the earth. A slab of similar white stone lay upon the ground. Likely the corridor had been sealed with that slab, and the diggers had ripped it open to reveal the passage.

  “Well,” said Angaric. “That’s an unpleasant surprise.”

  “Aye,” said Tyrcamber. The crumbling tower atop the hill had likely been deserted for centuries. But a sealed vault beneath the tower might hold any number of horrors. Tyrcamber summoned magic and worked the Sense spell, focusing his will on the slab of stone and the corridor beyond. He felt the lingering remnants of a powerful warding spell on the slab, and a fading aura of dark magic on the corridor.

  “It seems clear that this doorway was undisturbed for centuries,” said Angaric, who had also cast the Sense spell. “Maybe even before the Empire was founded.”

  “Mining rights,” said Tyrcamber, shaking his head. “They weren’t interested in ores, they were treasure hunting. Or tomb robbing.”

  “God and the saints,” said Angaric. “Nothing ever good comes from digging in the ruins of the dark elves.” Several of the serjeants nodded in fervent agreement, and Angaric sighed. “We’re going to have to take a look, aren’t we?”

  “Aye,” said Tyrcamber, drawing his sword. “Serjeants, which of you know the Light spell?” Several of the men stepped forward. “You two, cast the Light spell. I shall take the lead. Sir Angaric, hold your magic ready to strike any creature that issues forth from the corridor.”

  Angaric, for all his grumbling, was still a Knight of the Order, and he obeyed without question. Two of the serjeants cast the Light spell and summoned floating fist-sized spheres of harsh yellow-orange light. Tyrcamber concentrated and cast the Sword spell, and his blade of dark elven steel erupted in flames. The dark shadow of the Malison danced at the edge of his thoughts when he drew on magical power, as it always did, but he had not used much magic during the battle, so it was not difficult to keep the shadows of the Dragon Curse at bay.

  The Sword spell would give his weapon additional striking power…and it also made a handy torch.

  “Let’s go,” said Tyrcamber.

  He lifted his sword and led the way into the corridor, Angaric and the serjeants following.

  The corridor was made of the pale white stone the dark elves used in all their construction, and the fires of Tyrcamber’s Sword spell glimmered off the rock walls and ceiling. The air felt colder here, and Tyrcamber wondered if it was from an aura of dark magic or necromantic power that saturated the hill.

  Or, more likely, it was because they were underground.

  The short corridor ended in a round room about the size of a church. A domed ceiling rose overhead, shadowy in the glow from the Sword and Light spells. The round wall was marked with reliefs showing dark elves torturing and murdering their slaves. The dark elves seemed to enjoy cruelty, even revel in it, which always seemed to come back to haunt them when their slaves eagerly rebelled.

  A dais rose in the center of the round room, supporting a sarcophagus of white stone. The lid had been wrenched aside and shattered against the floor.

  “That happened recently,” said Angaric, pointing at the shattered lid. “Look, you can see the scratches. And there’s a rope. The men of Falconberg used a block and tackle to lift the lid.”

  “Idiots,” said Tyrcamber. What sort of fool opened a tomb in a dark elven ruin? Nothing good lurked in such places. He took a deep breath, raising his sword before him in guard, and crossed to the dais. Flickering shadows danced over the open sarcophagus as he lifted his sword, letting its fiery light fall over it.

  The sarcophagus was empty.

  Angaric stepped to his side and cast the Sense spell, his eyes narrowing as he concentrated. “There was an object of significant dark magic within the sarcophagus. It’s gone now, whatever it is.”

  “Then Gantier and his men opened the tomb and claimed whatever was inside,” said Tyrcamber. “Sir Rumric interrupted him, and Gantier used the muridach attack as an opportunity to escape.”

  He let out an annoyed breath, uneasiness churning inside his head.

  “Damned convenient the muridachs turned up when they did,” said Angaric.

  “It is,” said Tyrcamber.

  This had all the signs of a plot of the Dragon Cult. Or maybe the Fallen Order, or perhaps one of the other secret brotherhoods that lurked in the shadows of the Empire. A flush of anger went through Tyrcamber. The Empire was struggling for its survival against its foes, and yet they still faced treachery from within.

  Or maybe Gantier and his soldiers were simple treasure hunters.

  “Master Ruire isn’t going to like this,” said Angaric.

  “No,” said Tyrcamber. “He isn’t. We’d better give him the bad news.”

  Angaric was correct. Master Ruire didn’t like the news, and neither did Count Radobertus. Yet the urgency of their mission drove them onward. Radobertus left orders for Gantier to be arrested if he returned to Tolbiac, and then the column resumed their march to Falconberg.

  The Lord Chancellor needed to meet with the First of the umbral elves of Sygalynon, and that meeting might decide the fate of the Empire in the upcoming war with the Valedictor.

  ***

  Chapter 2: Imperial Free City

  Two days later, the Imperial Free City
of Falconberg came into sight.

  The column marched west, the River Ribar flowing to their right along the north side of the road. The pine forests thinned out, replaced by small farms and patches of rocky ground grazed by sheep. Traffic on the river increased, with merchant barges moving up and down the river, carrying goods to sell in Falconberg or to trade in the villages dotted throughout the duchies of Ribaria and Tournis. A few bold souls would continue east up the river until they reached the forests of Korbalost, in hopes of trading with the gnoll tribes that lived in the trees. A bold merchant could make fantastic profits from such a journey…but death at the hands of the jotunmiri, the muridachs, and the goblins was just as likely.

  Traffic also moved up the road as well, carts and wagons and horsemen, merchants and commoners and nobles both. Most of them pulled off the road at the sight of the Emperor’s banner, and Radobertus’s escort encouraged the laggards to greater speed.

  The first day after they left Tolbiac, the sea came into sight on the horizon, a massive expanse of blue-gray. The scent of the air changed from that of pine trees to the salt tang of the sea. Tyrcamber spotted seagulls circling overhead, sometimes cawing to each other, and he started to feel a flicker of relief. Another few miles and they would get the Lord Chancellor to Falconberg, and their mission would be complete.

  At least the first part of it, anyway.

  They still needed to guard the Chancellor while he negotiated with the First of the umbral elves. Tyrcamber would not put it past the umbral elves to launch a treacherous attack during a parley. Or the umbral elves might attack themselves and try to pin the blame on the men of the Empire, which would give them all the excuse they needed to join the Valedictor’s war. Except the umbral elves apparently hated the Valedictor…

  Tyrcamber put the thought out of his head. His duty wasn’t to unravel the schemes of politics. No, his task was to make sure the Master and the Lord Chancellor stayed alive. Then they could deal with the politics.

  He didn’t envy them.

  The forests thinned and the seagulls thickened as they traveled west, and two days after departing the village of Tolbiac, the Imperial Free City of Falconberg came into sight at last.

  “God and the saints,” muttered Rudolf, who rode next to Tyrcamber. “Bigger than I expected.”

  “And that is what all the whores of Falconberg shall say,” announced Angaric, “when they behold my…”

  “Best to conduct yourself as a Knight of the Order of Embers, sir,” said Tyrcamber. “The Master will be wroth if you embarrass us before the burghers.”

  Angaric snorted. “As if a knight could embarrass himself before mere townsmen.”

  But he kept further observations about whores to himself.

  Tyrcamber turned his attention to the Imperial Free City of Falconberg. He had seen larger cities – the Imperial capital of Sinderost was the largest in the Empire, and the Imperial Free Cities of Totenstadt and Annoc were larger, but not by much. Falconberg rose on the southern bank of the River Ribar, stretching to greet the shore of the western sea. Tyrcamber knew that over a hundred thousand souls lived within the city’s grim, strong walls. It had a good harbor on the western sea, and another on the river itself. The city’s walls were massive, thirty feet high and twenty thick, studded with towers mounted with siege engines. Those mighty walls explained how the Free City had resisted the power of Duke Cormarl Scuinar, who detested the burghers and would have liked to place Falconberg under the power of the Duke of Ribaria. It would take a mighty army to storm Falconberg, and the Duke alone could not muster the power to do it.

  Within the walls, Tyrcamber saw the countless roofs of proud mansions, the spires of dozens of churches, and the soaring towers of a great cathedral. There was no castle, though. Only nobles could build castles within the Empire, and for all their wealth and power, the merchants of the city were of common blood. Though with Falconberg’s massive walls, the city hardly needed a castle.

  Master Ruire gave orders, and Rudolf rode up and down the column, repeating the Master’s commands. Soon the knights and serjeants had themselves in good formation, the banners of the Emperor and the Order flying overhead. As ranking knights among the Order, Tyrcamber and Angaric were part of Master Ruire’s personal escort, and they rode near him. The city drew closer, and Tyrcamber saw men in green tabards standing upon the walls. No enemy would be able to take Falconberg unawares, so long as those men maintained their vigilance.

  A short time later they reached the city’s eastern gate. Armored men in green tabards stood guard there, inspecting traffic as it entered Falconberg. Before the gate stood a half-dozen soldiers on horseback, and in their midst waited an old man atop a horse. The old man sat sword-straight, his face grim and craggy. He wore a crimson robe with black banding on the sleeves and hem, the robe of an alderman of the Imperial Free Cities. The old man’s hair was a brilliant shade of white, and it seemed to stir around his head like a haze of mist.

  Ruire called a halt as they approached the gate, and the crimson-robed alderman and his escort rode forward.

  “My lords!” called the alderman. “I presume I have the honor of addressing the Master of the Order of the Embers and the Lord Chancellor of the Frankish Empire.”

  “You do,” said the Master. “I am Ruire, Master of the Order, and this is Count Radobertus Vilmar, Count of Vilmar and the Emperor’s Chancellor.”

  The alderman offered a deep bow from his saddle, and the mounted soldiers followed suit. “I am Heinrich Vordin, one of the aldermen of Falconberg. In the name of the Shield and aldermen of Falconberg, I am honored to welcome the representatives of our lord the Emperor to our city.” He gestured towards the gate. “My lords, if you would come this way? The Shield and the aldermen await you at Falcon Hall.”

  “Of course,” said Ruire. “I must give instructions to my men, and we shall proceed.”

  “As you will, my lord,” said Vordin.

  Ruire turned in his saddle and gave instructions to Rudolf and some of the knights. Most of the serjeants were to proceed to the Order’s chapterhouse in the city for billeting, and to remain ready for further instructions. Twenty serjeants and a dozen knights of the Order would accompany the Master and the Chancellor as their escorts, and Tyrcamber and Angaric were chosen for the escort. Angaric, likely because he was one of the most powerful wizards in the Order, and Tyrcamber because he had seen a great many battles. And possibly because he was the youngest son of Duke Chilmar Rigamond, who hated the Imperial Free Cities and would like to see them brought under the control of the local nobles.

  Five years ago, Tyrcamber would have found the thought offensive. But after five years as a knight of the Order, he had seen enough of the Empire’s internal politicking to remain unsurprised. At times, he was surprised that the lords of the Empire managed to set aside their differences long enough to do anything.

  The final orders were given, and the Master and the Chancellor rode through the gate, proceeded by their standardbearers. Tyrcamber, Angaric, and the other knights of the escort followed, and then the serjeants marched through the gates with the supply train. Tyrcamber looked around the square beyond the gate, curious.

  His father hated cities and merchants, and most of the nobles of the Empire shared his opinion. God, his father proclaimed, had divided a rightly-ordered society into three classes that mirrored of the functions of the human body. The priests and the Imperial Church were the head and provided spiritual guidance. The nobles and the knights were the arms, defending the entire body of society from its foes. And peasants and commoners were the feet, farming the land to support the knights and the priests as they went about their work.

  The cities and their merchants did not quite fit into that division.

  Duke Chilmar argued, at some length, that the leaders of the Imperial Free Cities were nothing more than overly proud merchants, base men elevated above their natural station by wealth gained through financial trickery rather than honest labor. The F
ree Cities drew in the dregs of the Empire and corrupted them further. Young men abandoned their lords to become laborers in the workshops and factories of the merchants, and young women came to the cities in hopes of marrying wealthy husbands, only to become prostitutes to feed themselves. The Free Cities, Duke Chilmar said, were cesspits of rebellion and corruption, and the sooner the Emperor revoked their charters and allowed the nobles to take control of them, the better.

  Tyrcamber had agreed with his father without question before he had joined the Order of Embers, though he had never really given the matter much thought. Certainly, his father was right on many points. The Imperial Free Cities that Tyrcamber had visited were fractious and prone to rioting. The merchant princes who ruled the Free Cities were greedy and arrogant and often oppressed their journeymen and apprentices in ways that liege lords never did to their peasants. And a city the size of Falconberg would have a score of brothels. It was how Angaric sampled the brothels of every city he visited. Tyrcamber had visited such places himself with Corswain Scuinar when they had been squires, though he had lost his taste for hiring female companionship as he grew older. The cold, cynical eyes of the women in the brothel had stirred his conscience.

  All that his father said about the Free Cities was true, but that was not the entire truth. The charters of the Free Cities swore them directly to the Emperor rather than a local lord, and the men of the cities were bound to send men to fill the Emperor’s armies. Most of the soldiers sworn directly to the Emperor came from the Free Cities, and Tyrcamber had seen them fight with valor in a dozen battles. And a man could come to the Free Cities as a penniless laborer and end his days as a wealthy merchant. Nowhere else in the Empire was that possible. Granted, it wasn’t likely – but even so, that penniless laborer could find work and security in the Free Cities.

  There were, Tyrcamber supposed, good men and bad men wherever you went. Only the specific circumstances changed.