Blade of Erogrund

The sounds of blades being drawn slashed the blanket of dead air that had filled the room. Beside him, Godric heard Matthis stand, knocking his chair back so far that it tumbled into the abyss that surround Rae-Oiron with a crash. In his hand he carried a Great Spear. Where it had come from was anyone’s guess. Others who had sat before the Head Table had risen similarly, baring all forms of armament.

“Come now, my friends,” Caeros hushed. “There is no need for violence here.” Men from the banquet tables and the crowd had begun to come forward, carrying their swords conspicuously among the banqueters. “Your Council has voted. Now, execute your King’s order.”

With scarcely a sound other than the gentle whisper movement, Hilthwen rose with a small bow in her hands. Sitting firmly on the string lay an arrow pointed toward Caeros.

“I don’t think so, Caeros,” she declared. “Put your sword down. You are under arrest.”

“Oh my child,” he chided. “Do not mistake me as your enemy. Do you think I do this gratefully? It is my greatest desire that the Men of Niron find the victory we seek under Ennor’s kingship, but such wishes are futile. Save your steel for the serpents that would devour your kin.”

“Aye, I have one in my sites,” she answered coolly. “For not all serpents armor themselves in a curtain of scales.”

“Is your king reduced to arguing with children? Guards, will you not fulfill your duties? Take Ennor away and do the same with this girl who draws bow and arrow against me.”

Never in the span of Godric’s years would he be able to recall what sparked the flames of battle that consumed the Great Hall in those few moments. The distinct foretellers of bloodshed made themselves apparent in such an overwhelming conglomeration of chaos that his head was left spinning. The gentle yet discernible swish of Hilthwen’s bowstring launched a steel arrowhead at Caeros. Simultaneously the shouts of angered men erupted as his soldiers attempted to make their way to where Ennor and Hilthwen stood but were hindered by weapon-ready opponents.

Caeros bowed and slashed his sword while Hilthwen’s arrows sped toward him, effectively dodging the bolt while splitting it in two. Exclamations of pain echoed the cracking of the wood bolt as men were cut down at the hands of their combatants. The tumult of battle dominated the hall, ushering in brutal duels. Without delay the iron odor of blood saturated the air and the glistening steel worn at the sides of men were marred with the gore of their comrades.

The guards that had responded to Caeros advanced the Head Table, but they were not swift enough to avoid another of Hilthwen’s arrows. Her first shaft found the first soldier just above the knee, emitting a cringing crack as the tendons were ripped away and the bone etched. Screaming, the man dropped to the ground. Matthias scaled the table without hesitation to meet the two others. His spear swung like a quarterstaff until the butt-end cracked against one man’s face. The other was quick enough to lift his sword to meet the spearhead, but Matthias responded with a solid kick between his legs. The man’s armor absorbed enough of the force to avoid injury but caused him to stumble backward.

Strangely even as the sounds of battle grew deafening, Theronin and many of the other Lords at the table remained seated. Many faces betrayed confused bewilderment. Among them several wore only a face of cold indifference to the gory display.

Hilthwen lowered her bow and dragged Agatha from her seat. Shoving her and Godric toward the stairs, she whispered sternly in their ears, “Go to the Council Room! We will come find you later, but you have to go now. Hurry!”

“No, I can fight!” Godric protested. “I have weapons.”

“It doesn’t matter. Caeros will want you. If you are dead, he has free reign to the sword. No amount of courage is going to stop that. Now go.”

There was no time for argument. More guards had come at the sounds of battle and had joined the fray. Hilthwen pushed them both again toward the stairs before joining Matthias and the other members of the High Table.

Godric’s stomach clenched to see the death that had already unfolded. Even as he watched a balding man of no great stature was stabbed in the throat by another’s knife. The injustice of it all kindled within him. That so many should die because of the anger of one.

His hand itched to take up the dagger that rested in his belt and join the battle. Thain’s words in the forest the night after Dunn had been destroyed echoed in his mind. “The boy has some heart. He can take care of them...” This is my chance. I can finally prove I’m not just some pathetic farm boy found in the forest. But before his hand could reach the battered handle of the dagger, Agatha’s intercepted it. For the third time that night she held it tightly and began to steer him away. This time he resisted.

“No. I’m staying to help. You go.”

“You’re a fool if you think you’re staying here,” she hissed. “You’ll be dead in a few minutes and Caeros will get exactly what he wanted.” With each word her eyes brimmed fuller with tears of exasperation. “Please! Please, just come with me....”

Her terror was enough to awake in his heart the knowledge that she was right. There was no point in staying behind. No amount of courage could make up for the fact that he would be dead before the fight was over. Instead he let his feet follow the girl’s up the steps and toward the Council Room.

The contrasting silence of this part of the city was stark. The halls were barren and dull as if they had just been hewn. Each running footfall sent echoes that drowned out the distant sounds of battle.

Reaching the Council Room door, Godric pulled Agatha inside and drew it closed. Inside several candles burned lazily like sprites ignorant of the bloodshed going on. The map table reflected the flames peacefully, revealing the figures of the dragons and armies atop the brilliant recreation of Niron. Several chairs were placed around the room. Nothing else could be seen in the half-light.

The hypnotic shadows sent shivers down Godric’s spine so he drew a candle from its place and lit several of the torches that were placed in the wall. Light spilled from their tar-covered ends until much of the room was revealed, though nothing further could be seen within it. Agatha ran into a corner as he did this, covering her face in her hands under the shadows as if cowering from the light.

Setting the candle back in its place, Godric took a step toward her.

“Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

From beneath her hands he heard her sobbing.

Taking another step toward her, he carefully placed a hand on her shoulder to gently pull her to face him. She resisted the motion firmly.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured. “Please don’t cry. I don’t know what to do.”

This time she slowly turned around, her sobs breaking into weak chuckles. “No boy does, from what I’ve heard.”

“None that I’ve met.”

A ghost of a smile flickered on her face but flickered away like the candles’ shadows. “I... I just can’t believe it. How all those people could be serving - fighting - together and then suddenly against each other. It isn’t right. But...”

“But what?”

All she could do was shake her head. “Nothing. It’s nothing...”

Hesitation nearly stopped him, but he compassionately held her cheek and forced her to look at him in the eye. “No it isn’t. There’s something wrong. Something’s been bothering you.” A thought struck in his mind. “You had an idea this would happen, didn’t you? You were talking about it at the banquet, about how there was no unity in the kingdom. Did someone tell you?”

Her eyes stared up at him, filled with a sea of thoughts like a hurricane whirling with frigid waves. Then she did the one thing he wasn’t prepared for.

She kissed him.

It wasn’t like anything he had ever felt before. Even when Mira had kissed him on the cheek it was nothing like this. Agatha held him close and embraced him, letting the moment wash over them. It was overwhelming, like she transferred all of her love, confusion, desperation, and....something else.

But then he felt the guilt. This isn’t right. I barely know her. And what about Mira?

But he didn’t want to push away. She held him so close with so much hope. A strand of her hair had fallen across his shoulders, smelling alluringly like honey and wildflowers. Her small hands held his shoulders so firmly....

Finally he pushed her away.

Her face flushed as she looked down in embarrassment. “I’m sorry... That was wrong of me. It’s just, you... You’re...” She sighed. “I don’t know.”

“It’s alright,” he answered slowly, taking her . “It’s going to be alright. I understand. Loss does weird things to people, but you’ll be okay. Just hold on. Someone will be there for you.”

She squeezed his hand tightly and pulled the diamond pins from her hair. Shaking her head, the beautiful coils softly cascade down her shoulders. “Yes. And I want that person to be you.”

“I can’t let that happen, Agatha,” he said. “It’s not you, it’s -”

“- that other one, isn’t it? The one that brought you into the apothecary’s; Mira.” Her voice was strained. “Why would you wait for her? What has she done?”

“What do you know about that?” He snapped, all sympathy gone in a moment.

Agatha recoiled with her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Godric bowed his head. “No, I’m sorry. That was wrong of me. She is - was - very close to me. It’s just, we’ve been through a lot together.”

“But who is with you now?” She countered. “I’m scared,” she confessed. “I have been and always am. But since meeting you, it’s been different. You are different from anyone I’ve ever met and even though I’m scared, there’s no one is rather be with right now.”

The words sunk in painfully. She was right. Mira was gone. She’s chosen Aeis over him. It was done.

But here was someone who wanted him. She had only known him a few days, but already she was prepared to surrender herself. She already had, in a manner of speaking. Everyone knew she had been with him at the Banquet. Everyone saw her with him. She was nearly as much a target as he was.

She let go of him and reached behind her, untying one of the several knots on her dress. “Come on. Please....” Her eyes plead with him to hold her. Be her comfort.

A whisper in his mind told him no. It was wrong. This shouldn’t happen. But his heart screamed differently. He could feel his skin grow warm just looking at her. A beautiful, caring girl stood before him begging him to be with her.

Finally he couldn’t take anymore. He bent down and kissed her again. She leaned in close, so close he could feel her warmth against his chest.

And in an instant it was broken.

Blinding pain erupted in his stomach. It was like nothing he had ever felt before, a dagger of fire driven between his ribs in a blazing stab of agony.

He stumbled away and groped at the wound, sickening at the sticky warmth of blood that ran between his fingers. His hand found the hilt of a short dagger. Acrid smoke curled from the burning wound.

Agatha’s eyes were wide in fear and even before he could make an exclamation, she was crying. “Oh Godric, Niron, I’m so sorry! I’m so, so sorry! Oh, Ecthion, I’m so sorry!”

Godric tumbled against the table for support, away from Agatha, who was already crying again. The devastating shock and pain broke into blinding stars that danced across the room in vicious contrast to the flickering shadows.

“What... Why?” Through choking coughs that sent lighting arcs of pain through his chest he could barely stammer out those few words.

From behind him, the door suddenly slammed open with a boom.

“What in dragonfire is going on?”

Aeis’s voice gave Godric a string of hope as his vision began to clear. “Aeis,” he stammered. “Help, she... Ahhh!” He shrieked in pain as he felt the dagger shift deeper. “She...”

Aeis drew his sword. “Agatha! What is going on?!” The girl coughed against her tears, but Aeis’s voice repeated as sharp as the edge of his sword. “What - is - going - on?”

“I did it, Aeis. I didn’t think I could, but I did.”

The boy lowered the sword and relaxed his shoulders. He pulled the door closed. “Good. It’s okay, Agatha, it had to be done.”

“What?” Godric exclaimed, fighting the pain that blossomed as he did. “Aeis, what are you... What are you talking about?” In his side the pain has lessened only minimally, but had begun to spread farther up his chest.

The boy glared at him. “Damn it, I warned you, Godric. I gave you every opportunity. I, and Agatha too, didn’t want to hurt you, but it had to be done.”

The startling malice in Aeis’s eyes only added to the pain Godric felt in his chest. “Why?”

“I already told you. Everyone wants out of here. It’s a tomb, Godric; a tower slowly being torn down. Well my sister and I are getting out of here, and if siding with Caeros is what it takes, so be it.”

“Sister?” As soon has he spoke, he regretted it. The dagger cut deeper again, searing its way into his flesh.

“Yes,” Aeis said, grinning humorlessly. “Agatha is my sister. Caeros told us that if we killed you, he would protect us. I never wanted to hurt you, but in Ennor’s kingdom, everyone is hurt at some point. Those damn patrols send innocent men and women to the slaughter and leave their kin ruined. That’s not happening, Godric. Not to me and not to Agatha. I’ll be burned alive before that happens to us over you.

“You see, Caeros will get things done here. And, I might add, he told us about Erogrund. You called me a friend and still concealed that from me. So you have to understand that we had no other choice.”

“You had choices, Aeis. You still do. Please... Just help me and - ”

“I don’t think so,” Aeis stopped him. “We have cast our bets and the dice are being rolled in the Great Hall. This has been going on for weeks now, you fool,” he scoffed. “Caeros has made all the preparations. He saw Mira and I get close and approached me. It was a snap to get Agatha on board and the rest was easy.

“All I had to do was introduce Mira to the apothecaries, see to it that Theronin ‘meets’ you at some point or another, and Caeros took care of the rest.”

“Please don’t include me in this,” Agatha mourned.

Her brother shrugged. “It’s too late now, ’Thia. But we need to go. Guards will no doubt be coming this way soon.” He looked to Agatha. “Are you sure the dagger is enough?”

She nodded shakily. “Yes. I dipped it in firestone scorpion venom to be sure.”

“Good. All the same, there’s no point in delaying it.” Aeis lifted his sword to Godric’s throat. The edge of the blade tickled his neck tantalizingly.

But the death stroke was interrupted as the door to the Council Room broke open with a crash. It’s edge caught Aeis in the back, knocking him aside from where he stood beside Godric. Matthias smashed through the door, letting it crack against the boy’s head while Agatha screamed. Godric just managed to twist out of the way of Aeis’s falling sword, letting it clatter to the ground.

The last thing Godric remembered before succumbing to the agony stemming from the dagger wound was Aeis’s scream as Matthias buried his spearhead into the boy’s chest.