The Bringer of War

“I am fine, Bruno,” said Aven as the knight continued to fuss with the wounds on her wrists. He was using a cloth treated in herbs good for preventing infection, dabbing gently at the cuts on her flesh.

“He bound you like an animal,” growled the ebon skinned man, the set of his jaw saying that the blood he had already spilled was not enough to sate his appetite.

“Aye,” said Aven, putting a hand on his cheek “but now you must stay your wrath, my brave knight. This father Cornelius, or One eyed Bruce, whoever he really is... only he can unravel this mystery. Do not the severed limbs and viscera you left outside slake your thirst for vengeance?”

“No,” he said “they do not. There may be more blood spilled yet; Those who overtly rebelled are vastly outnumbered by those who hold rebellion in their hearts. Worse, many of the men slain today were brothers, husbands, fathers...”

Aven nodded sadly. “It is not safe for you to remain in Ravensford, my lo-my lord.”

Bruno grunted, finishing the bandage on her wrist. She felt guilty, knowing that a slight expenditure of her magical energy could close the stinging cuts, but there was a certain thrill to be had watching the knight dote over her.

“Once I have learned what I can from those two,” said Bruno “I shall away for the capital. The king must know of this brazen attempt to usurp order.”

“You would leave us, then?” said Aven.

“Aye,” said Bruno, frowning at her “though it pains me that we must part, my fair Allison...”

He leaned forward to kiss her, which she returned. It was her hands that shoved him away, however, her green eyes glinting with anger.

“So that is it,” she said “you will rut about in my hairy ditch, kiss me, then be off never to return?”

“Allison,” said Bruno, placing a hand on her cheek. She swatted it away, a low growl escaping her throat. “Do not...do not speak so. I...I care for you...”

“I... care for you as well,” she said, fighting the stinging tears that threatened to well up in her eyes.

“Return with me,” he said suddenly, a light gleaming in his eyes “I have modest lands, some of the earth tilled by my own hand, and my house is not the largest, but, it could be your home as well...”

“What are you saying?” said Aven breathlessly.

“I think,” said Bruno, seeming not to believe his own tongue “that I am asking you to be my wife.”

“Oh,” said Aven, and now the tears did come, flowing hot down her cheeks. “Oh, Sir Bruno, I would love to come with you, but there is something you must know-”

Hector walked into the kitchen, saw the tender scene before him, and instantly turned to leave.

“Forgive me,” he said. He had only took a step when Bruno called him back.

“What is it, Squire?” he said.

“The...er...” said Hector “the priest is awake.”

“I’ll be there presently,” said Bruno. Hector nodded and gratefully made his exit.

“What is it you wished to say?” said Bruno, putting his hand over her own.

“It can wait,” she said, her eyes narrowing. She sniffled, wiping the mucous from her nose with the back of her sleeve. “I would hear what this priest has to say for himself.”

They tromped down the stairs to the residence’s cellar. The cool air felt good on their skin, though the sensation seemed lost on their captives. Davros had been bound about the torso with twine, his hands lashed together in his lap. The troublesome priest was similarly secured, but while Bruno’s old friend was comfortable in a chair, Crown was lying on his bottom in the dirt. A large swollen knot was on the side of his head, partially closing his left eye.

“So,” said the little man, addressing Aven “it seems as if our positions are reversed. I admit I underestimated you, my dear.”

“Shut up,” said Bruno, grabbing the little man by his face. “You don’t speak to her. Never speak to her again, understand?”

He roughly shook the man’s head from side to side, so fiercely Hector and Aven feared his neck would snap.

“Of course,” said Crown, staring somberly up into Bruno’s eyes. “Instead, I will bargain with you, oh knight.”

“Bah,” said Davros, turning his baleful gaze upon the assassin “what have you to offer, except lies and deceitful acts, ‘Bruce?’”

“Had you been able to fulfill your end, we would not be in this position,” said Crown with a slight smile.

“We are not allies, worm,” said Davros, spitting in the dirt at his feet.

“Talk,” said Bruno, grabbing the man by the face once more “talk, or I shall gladly break your jaw.”

“Very well,” said Crown, getting as comfortable as he could. “Where would you like me to start?”

“How about your name?” said Davros “I take it you are neither old soldier or priest.”

“Yes,” said Bruno “let’s begin there. Who are you, little man, and why do you bring your treachery here?”

“My name is not important,” said Crown “some call me Crown, some by other names, but I am perhaps best known by the rather unsubtle moniker of the Gray Death.”

Bruno burst out laughing, as did Hector. Even Davros looked amused, though Aven’s brow knitted with confusion.

“I do not understand,” she said “why are you laughing?”

“The Gray Death,” said Hector “is ten feet tall, and wields a sword that can cut a man’s home in half, with him still inside!”

“Aye,” said Bruno “and he has the fires of hell glowing in his eyes, which he can unleash upon those unfortunate enough to cross his path.”

“So I have heard,” said Crown with a chuckle “as you can see, the reality has been a bit...exaggerated. But I am the Gray Death, late employed by King Drakken.”

“Lies,” said Bruno “the King would never employ an assassin! He is an honorable man-”

“I can believe it,” said Davros, drawing Bruno’s attention. “I am one of perhaps a dozen men on the face of the Allfather’s earth who know of his true plans, Bruno. Have you not wondered where all the coin he has collected has gone to?”

“I do not question my betters,” said Bruno with a growl. Crown began laughing, almost hysterically.

“Explain yourself, worm,” said Aven, trying out a new epithet. She found it oddly appropriate for the little man.

“I’m sorry,” he said “it’s just the irony of it all. The knight defending the honor of the very man who contracted me to kill him.”

“Ridiculous,” said Hector “you want us to believe that not only do you do the king’s bidding, but that you are to assassinate sir Bruno?”

“I confess it is a bit odd,” said Davros, who seemed to be on Bruno’s side in the interrogation “Bruno is a Cromwell by adoption, not birth, and has no claim to the throne.”

“As well as being one of the Sun People,” said Hector.

“Indeed,” said Crown “but his majesty has been a bit...preoccupied with fortune telling and augury of late. It seems he has reason to believe that you will overthrow him, sir Bruno.”

“Preposterous,” said Bruno “never, have I even for a minute desired the throne!”

“It is true, sir Bruno,” said Davros “I have seen the king’s madness first hand. Do you know what he has done with all the coin he has collected? Nothing.”

“Nothing?” said Bruno with a frown.

“Nothing,” echoed Davros, seeming to gain momentum “it just lays about in tall piles beneath Fort Drakken, in a chamber with a high vaulted ceiling that many engineers died to build.”

Aven’s face had gone pale, and new sweat broke out on her brow despite the chill air of the cellar. No one noticed, their attention focused upon the old swords master.

“Is it truly so?” said Bruno, a skeptical expression on his face.

“Have you ever known me to lie, Bruno?” said Davros. “I have seen it with my own eyes, as has Lord Mannix. We were at the lands meet over two years ago, and in our drunkenness got turned around in the myriad meandering corridors with in the keep. We were accosted by a brace of Templars who sent us on our way. I do not think that they knew what we had beheld, or likely our bones would lie beneath the rock still.”

“Lord Mannix?” said Bruno. “He is involved in this as well?”

“Of course,” said Davros with a smile “why do you think he cast me out, and broke your engagement to the Lady Katherine? He sought to protect you and his daughter from his treasonous acts, should they see the light of day.”

“Bruno,” said Aven, drawing four pairs of eyes to her. “I know...I know what Drakken is planning, why he has amassed so much coin.”

“Spit it out, woman,” said Davros, which drew glares from both Bruno and the maid.

“He is trying to attract a Queen,” she said.

“Of course,” said Crown, chuckling “he’s nearing eighty years, and has no heir.”

“No, you dolt,” said Aven, her green eyes narrowing “a Queen Dragon.”

“Allison,” said Bruno politely “I have fought many dragons, and none of them have worn a crown or bore a scepter.”

“Not a human queen,” said Aven “have you never dug into an anthill as a child, man, and seen that there is an ant much larger than the rest? An ant which lays eggs as often as you and I draw breath.”

“So you’re saying that Drakken wishes to generate an army of dragons,” said Hector, doubting the words even as he spoke them.

“Precisely,” said Aven.

“Rubbish,” said Davros “dragons are stupid beasts, who care only for slaughter and food. Gold would not attract them, any more than it would attract rodents or wolves.”

“Queen Dragons are a different breed,” said Aven “they have thoughts in their mind as men do, and they ply them only towards the propagation of their own race. The king is a fool, who will unleash a plague unlike any other upon all of us.”

“Bah,” said Davros “your woman prattles on long about little. How would a barmaid know anything of dragons, and their ways?”

“Because,” said Aven, drawing herself to her full height. “I am no barmaid, swordsman.”

Gathering her innate energies, she used them to nudge her flesh back into its natural shape.

“Tomorph,” she said loudly, and her features flowed like water. The green eyes and face of Allison the barmaid were still there, but were sharper, more feral. Round curling horns jutted from her skull, and her legs lengthened and bent. Hector plastered himself against the back wall of the cellar, and an acrid smell filled the air as Davros relieved himself. Bruno stood, jaw slack, as he beheld the change. Only Crown was unaffected, smugly smiling at the fearful reactions of the others.

“I am Aven of Still Hollow,” she said “I am a hunter, a warrior, and a wielder of magic. And I am faerie...somewhat.”

Bruno nodded slowly, putting together the pieces of a puzzle he had not even known he had.

“I knew, on some level, in some way,” he said “that you were special, no mere country maid...”

“Sir Bruno, are you daft?” said Davros “She is faerie! Your sworn duty is to protect good folk from the likes of her!”

“Lies,” said Aven, narrowing her eyes dangerously “at first, the Templars were our allies against the dragons. Our people’s combined might was needed to end the life of the last queen, in a long forgotten age. Where do you think the secret of Heartfire came from? It is faerie magic that gives the Templars their strength.”

Bruno stared down at his forearm, the blue designs glinting in the torchlight. He raised his gaze to Aven’s unusual form, focusing on her eyes. Though she now stood a foot taller than he, and had furry shins that ended in cloven hooves, the warmth in her gaze was undiminished. He was surprised to find that his feelings were unchanged. In fact, the prospect of riding into battle with one of the fey folk had him oddly thrilled. He also wondered if her new body would be as responsive beneath the sheets...

“Stop staring,” said Hector with a chuckle “you can make moon eyes over each other later.”

The squire moved out from behind Davros’s chair and offered his hand to her. Aven was taken aback, but still held it gently in her own.

“A pleasure to meet the real you,” said Hector. “I understand I owe you my life.”

“More than you know,” said Aven, glaring at Crown “that one sought to smother you while you lay helpless in his hut.”

Hector turned a truly monstrous gaze upon Crown, who shrank back a bit in spite of himself.

“I have been plagued by nightmare of late,” he said “where I am drowning though I am not in water. Now I know why.”

Hector’s short bladed knife came free of its sheath, and he took a step towards Crown. Bruno interposed his arm between the two of them.

“He deserves to die, Sir Bruno,” said Hector pleadingly.

“Perhaps,” said the knight “but he may prove to be useful.”

“What are you planning, knight?” said Davros suspiciously.

“I am going to return to the capital,” he said “and see the king’s madness for myself. If necessary, I will carry out the Thirteenth Duty.”

Hector dropped the knife to the dirt floor, his jaw falling nearly as far.

“Thirteen?” said Hector “I only know of twelve! The first is the Duty to the Allfather. The second is to the people. The third-”

“I know the duties, squire,” said Bruno “including one which is only given to those who survive the Heartfire. The Thirteenth Duty is to...remove a monarch who has gone corrupt.”

“Regicide,” said Davros grimly. “I can see why your order keeps it secret.”

“It matters not,” said Crown “the Templars are fiercely loyal to Drakken, as they are one of the few who have garnered a bit of the taxes for themselves. They will not aid you, knight. Likely, you will be struck down by the king’s soldiers ere you even set foot in the castle.”

Bruno turned his gaze upon Davros. Stooping low, he scooped up Hector’s knife and used it to sever the man’s bonds.

“What are you doing?” said Hector.

“Duncan,” said Bruno “I have need of your men.”

“You shall have them,” said Davros, rubbing his wrists “but I fear it will take an army to besiege Fort Drakken, and I have less than three hundred who have pledged to my cause. Many of them are simple folk, and not soldiers...”

“I know where you can find an army, Bruno,” said Aven, her fingers brushing the knight’s arm. His gaze fell upon her, at once loving and a bit fearful. “My folk will aid you.”

“The farmers and craftsmen of Ravensford,” said Hector with a frown.

“No,” she said “my other folk.”