Stormfyre Chapter Nine

       Well, we have arrived at long last at the chapter discontinuity that I warned about earlier. Chapter 10 of Stormfyre no longer exists. This manuscript has gone through at least five computers and several digital storage methods in the last twelve years, so it was inevitable that some degrading of the files was going to occur. I'm glad I only lost one chapter! So let's pretend that chapter 10 was simply really boring and not worth reading anyhow... I apologize for the inconvenience to everyone reading along, and I hope you can follow along from chapters 9 to 11 without too much problem.
The silo at the Telba residence was always breezy that time of season. Strong summer breezes blew through tiny gaps in the sheeted sides, making a whistling noise all the way through. When it caught just right it sounded like the voice of the dead passing through, keening in their misery. That coupled with the fact that the building was tall and dark, with ladders made of barred metal on the side, the only way to the top of the structure was why Kirstin Telba stayed away from it so often. But she was there now, sitting on the metal platform at the top of the silo, where the domed top could be peeled away to show the entire land on the east side of the house grounds. Huros once told her that if she were brave enough to climb to the top that she would be able to see the old church where Devlin so often took him, make believing that they were looking for lost treasures. But she never dared to climb outside the building, fearing the fall was worth more than the risk. But it still hurt too much to think of Huros, so she pushed it from her mind. 

            It had been over a week since the men came to the Telba house, made chaos from the peace that she had known all her life. Huros had put her in that hiding hold in the wall to save her. He died a hero, so far as she was concerned. A creaking noise made her start until she realized that it was just the wind blowing through the silo on its normal route. Falling back to her spot on the floor she leaned against the wall. The metal under her was cold, and never seemed to warm to the touch, which was about what her heart was feeling the moment Huros died. Then came the revelation later that night. Mother called her into her room. Ferrin, who had been keeping her company and entertaining her by tucking her earrings in his hand, shuffling them and then bidding her to guess which hand it was in, made it appear in places that astounded her. Behind her ear. On the bed behind her. In his mouth, which made her grimace some, but laugh weakly regardless. She was beginning to wonder if he was a wizard of some kind when Mirrian appeared to her. Kamil was upstairs, looking very ill. Julia tended to him. Kirstin thought that perhaps it was Andor passing on the illness that he picked up to his son. They were by each other’s side quite often.

            In that room she learned terrible truths. She learned that her mother had a child before she ever met the wandering nobleman, Lord Telba. Lord Telba took the young mother and the little girl she had as a daughter as his family, vowing that he wouldn't speak of the matter anymore. She laughed nervously, asking them if they were trying to make her feel better in light of what happened that night. Her mother assured her that these were things that she had to know. She told her daughter in small terms that they have been the cause for the misery that they just endured. Silently, the younger Telba sat on the bed and listened to her mother speak.

            Mirrian told her that her father left her with child, that he didn't care for her or Mirrian and begged Kirstin not to think any less of Devlin, who had been her father until five minutes ago. Kirstin asked the identity of the man that would do this to her. What kind of man would leave her like this, in the position to deal with single motherhood when there was no family left to support her?

            Mirrian gave her the name of her true father, the man that sired her, and she blanched. Another nervous laugh escaped her lips. She was under the mistaken impression that her mother told her that Darius Steelbreeze was her father. The king of unified Dagoth. Mirrian told her child that she had heard correctly. Darius Steelbreeze was her father. He wasn't the king then, far from it. Kalimon Steelbreeze was still on the throne. After he took ill it was Mikal, older brother to the nobleman Darius that seized the throne. But that was before Mikal. She was young, Mirrian told her daughter, her voice ragged. She didn't know the man, was ignorant to the politics of the land and the people playing them. It was a mistake.

            Kirstin flinched at that comment. There it was, plain as the nose on her face. She had been a mistake that her mother had made long ago. And now that mistake was coming back to haunt all of them. Kirstin let her mother know what she thought of that mistake, speaking boldly to her for the first time since she could remember. Her mother slapped her, making her cheek turn red from the hit. Shocked, grieving, Kirstin ran from the room sobbing, holding her hands over her face to shield them from any who were looking. Kamil watched her go, knowing full well the pain that gripped her heart. It was the same that had been laid bare in his.

            The wound was fresh in her mind as she rubbed her cheek. It wasn't the pain that she remembered so vividly. It was the hurt in her mother's eyes when Kirstin had told her that it was her fault that Huros died. That was before she learned that Sara, her only true friend all her life, was also killed that night. Two nights ago Father Alohm directed the funeral for them, Huros and Sara, one in the morning and the other that night. Kirstin had been there in body but not in spirit. She felt hollow. Her mother had yet to speak with her, and despite the warm words that her father shared with her he looked on her as though she were a stranger in his house. It made her skin crawl so she sought to avoid him as well as her mother.

            The silo felt more comfortable than the house, allowed her to think what she wanted in privacy. She entertained the thought of running away, but knew that for the foolish idea that it was. She rose to her feet, brushing her long skirts free of the dust that littered the metal floor. An opening gaped along the north end of the floor. The ladder poked up from the opening, the only way down from the five story climb.

            A sound at the opening made her stop moving. It was the sound of someone climbing the ladder, coming closer to her. Holding her breath she backed into the shadow of the silo, near the wall panel that slid apart to allow access onto the domed section. Her heart raced as she envisioned another assassin coming in the night to kill her. She let her shoulders slump down when she saw Karnov climb up. He turned from the ladder to look at her, hands on his hips. The old man looked well from the last time she saw him. He had been burnt from the barn blaze and if it hadn't been for Cameron Reol he said that he would have died in there. She thought the same of him. If it hadn't been for that man they may all have been killed in that attack.

            "Stayin' up here all night?" Karnov asked her, never taking his eyes off her.

            "I was just thinking...about things," she stammered, not sure how she wanted to respond about the subject.

            "How are you feeling, Karnov?" she asked.

            "Ah, I've had hangovers worse n' this. Father says I'll be right fine in no time. How r' you?"

            "I've been better," she replied, turning to the opening of the silo and gazing outside. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling the cooler air of the night. There was a full moon outside, lighting the sky in bright silver. She stood in the light of the moon, looking up at it with her eyes closed.

            "Your father wants you to come inside. He had words ta share with ya," Karnov told her softly, hesitating to take her from the place her mind was in.

            "He's not my father, Karnov. I thought you would have heard that by now."

            "No girl. He'll always be your father. He was there for you for as far back as you or me can remember. I think that makes the man your father by circumstance, if nothing else." Kirstin took in those words, seeking to draw comfort from them, from anything that offered it. She smiled at him, the first time since the night Huros died.

            "Karnov?"

            "Yes, mistress?"

            "Where did you get your accent from? I've always wanted to ask you that but mother said that it was rude to do that. Is it?"

            "Not at all," Karnov replied, happy at the fact that her curiosity still lingered there. It meant that her night of horror hadn't destroyed who she was, not entirely.

            "I'm from far to the north, where the Eagle reigns. I moved down here long ago at the calling of an old friend. I fear that my accent has gotten soft, though. If you were ta go up north, in any of the cities from Diez upward you'd hear the same thing. Only worse than me." Karnov stepped back onto the metal ladder and beckoned her to follow. Kirstin silently obeyed, spinning around and climbing after the old man.

           

            Cameron poured himself another glass of the brandy he found in the drawer of Devlin's desk. He was alone in the man's study, Devlin being too busy with the funerals and matters of the villages safety. He only barely convinced the people of Hamla to keep from calling in the army of Dagoth for aid after the battle with the rogues. Many feared that more would come, highwaymen like the five that met their fate in the boundaries of the normally quiet village. Father Alohm, who had reluctantly agreed that it must have been Darius Steelbreeze who sent the men to begin with, assured the people that there was no more fear. Andor had lived through his attack and the man that had been left alive from the attacking forces had been carted to the village of Casteel where a jail could hold him.

            Devlin had been anxious all that week, moving from his house to the village, never trying to stay in one place for too long, and never in the company of his wife or daughter for more than minutes. He was waiting for word on a letter that he had sent to a friend by association, a man that knew his father well. It seemed that the man was a land holder near the city of Twin Port. His name was Avernus Cromley, a baron, noble blood that reached as far back as the Krestin dynasty in Dagoth's history. What Devlin wanted with Avernus was beyond Cameron. He thought that he was looking for help from sources outside the kingdom, which was wise of Devlin.

            Cameron downed the drink, setting the empty goblet on the table and leaning into the chair. He felt warm and far away from the worries of late. He wondered when it was that he became so poor at dealing with the pressures that life offered him. He swore once that his days with the bottle were over. He knew it was a crutch that nearly had him in the grave on more than one occasion. But it was a crutch that could also be an old friend when you needed it most. What kind of trouble had he found now? He thought the days of high adventure were behind him, left in the glory of his past life. He snorted and slapped the goblet across the room where it shattered against the wall. Breathing deeply he stood up and crossed the room, staring at the mess he made.

            "Broken," he muttered. Just like me, he added silently. There were footfalls behind him and he turned to see who was coming into the room. The door swung open and Devlin entered, carrying an oil lamp to push the shadows that Cameron was hiding in back. The only other source of light was a candle that had nearly burnt to the base sitting on the table. Cameron smiled at him, hoping it was a pleasant smile, but the look on Devlin's face made him stop. There was news from Twin Port, he was sure. Bracing himself he waited for the elder man to ask him what he knew he was going to.

            "I have something to inquire of you, Cameron," Devlin stated, not moving from the door frame. Lord Telba tossed him a satchel and Cameron caught it, felt the bulk of coin in it. He pulled the string that bound it and held it near the candle to see the contents.

            "One hundred two silver pieces. I believe that was the agreement that we had come to. Three silver for every day that you stayed on as ward to the children."

            "Does this mean you’re dismissing me? I was wondering; I know you sent word to this man, this Avernus Cromley. I have heard of him. What were you hoping of gaining by contacting him?"

            "That is part of the question that I need to ask of you," Devlin replied.

            "You received an answer? This swiftly?"

            "No. I need not wait for an answer. I know this man and know that he was loyal to my father twenty five years ago and will be loyal to me now. Such is the bond of friendship." Devlin's voice rang hollow, like there was nothing left to the man. Cameron sympathized. He had never married, being a fighting man he never thought twice of it. What life would it have been for a woman to wonder every day if the man that she took as husband would come back to her after his service was over? He never knew the joy of having a child, or the agony of having to bury one. He didn't ask Devlin if he wanted to talk it over. He would respect the man's privacy.

            "What are you getting at, Devlin?"

            "Master Cromley would surely be kind enough to take my wayward daughter in if she was sent to him. Her along with that young man Kamil. Until matters are taken care of here I cannot vouch for her safety so I will not make her stay. For the sake of Mirrian if nothing else. She has born too much to watch her child be murdered...again."

            "You're sending them to Twin Port? Do you know how far that is from here? They'd be wandering through Southcross's territory and if memory serves the kingdom has just been plunged into war!"

            "That is why," Devlin continued, his tone even, "I wish for you to go with them, ensure that nothing happens to them as they journey to the tower where master Crowley has taken residence."

            "Pardon?" Cameron managed, regretfully feeling the warmth of the alcohol already leaving him.

            "Father Alohm will travel with you. He has vowed that he will stay beside both Kirstin and Kamil until they reach the tower. Andor said that he would go as well but the father forbade him, telling him that rest was what he needed. Right now I am sure that he and Kamil are saying goodbyes to each other. I hope for everyone to leave when the dawn comes. I also hope that it is you that leads them to the tower, Cameron."

            Cameron paced around the room, circling the desk. He expected Devlin to come and say something, but not this. Not asking him to lead Kirstin and the others across a soon to be war torn countryside to the safety of a baron's tower that was several hundred miles away. Twin Port! By the One! He slapped his forehead and laughed out loud, cursing his luck with the next breath.

            "You are a fighting man. I believe that you are wise in the ways of survival. It is not that I do not believe that the father is not up to the task, but he has lived here, preached here, for so long that I fear he has forgotten what the outside world truly holds."

            Devlin walked up just behind him and Cameron could feel him staring at him. He would’ve killed for a drink at that moment. A hand fell on his shoulder and he turned. Devlin met his gaze and neither man dropped it.

            "Why do you not lead them?"

            "And leave Mirrian here? Or worse even, take her with to complicate things? No, I must stay here and make sure that no one sends word to the kingdom. The moment that is done I fear there would be men after you. Please, Cameron, you are the only man I know of who can do this."

            "It will cost you," Cameron told him, his eyes never wavering. Devlin didn't look the least bit surprised by his words. He walked over to his desk and opened one of the drawers at the bottom side of it. Cameron watched him remove a key that had been hidden on the false bottom of the drawer. He moved to the wall where a large wall painting was hanging, a scene of horses running free in a forest glade. With both hands the elder Telba removed the painting and put it on the floor, revealing a metallic surface hidden behind it.

            Cameron moved closer as Devlin placed the key in the lock and twisted first to the left, then all the way back right. There was a loud click and the front of the safe spun open to reveal the contents inside. Devlin reached most of an arm span into the safe and removed a large sac that appeared to be filled with coin. Not bothering to gauge Cameron's reaction, he went back to his desk after closing the safe and tossed the sac of coin on the desk top.

            "Open it," Devlin ordered. Cameron crossed the room and took hold of the sac, pulling the draw string that held the top in place. In the light of the dying candle he saw gold coins. Hundreds of them. Surprise washed over Cameron's face. His jaw dropped at the sight of all the coin that sat in the sac. He had no idea that Devlin Telba had managed to amass such a fortune in such a small village.

            "There is five hundred gold pieces there. Exactly five hundred. When you reach Cromley Tower I have already beseeched the baron to give you five hundred more. You will be paid one thousand gold pieces for carrying out these duties."

            "One thousand?" Cameron reluctantly pulled the draw string back in place, noting that the sight of the gold made his drunkenness leave him. Perhaps there was more brandy in the study.

            "I do not wish to fail my wife a second time and I thought you might need the proper motivation to ensure the safety of the youths who you travel with."

            "And you were so sure that I'd accept your offer?"

            "You are a fighting man, Cameron Reol. How could you turn down such an offer when all you must do is escort two children and a priest to Cromley Tower? Once you are there and the children are in the care of Avernus you may leave them. I will not bind you there any longer than you need be. I am sure that you would want to hire your services to the fighting ranks in the north, what with the war fast coming on between Dagoth and Southcross."

            "I don't like mercenary acts, Devlin. I thought I told you that already. Killing men for coin isn't my style."

            "Then take this job. There is no killing, not if it can be helped. See them south, Cameron. I can count only on you." Cameron searched the shelves along the room for where the elder Telba kept his supply of brandy but failed to find it. Shrugging, he realized that he was once again trying to shirk off responsibility. Wasn't it partly his fault that Huros had been killed? He should have known that the burning barn had been a ruse to draw attention from where the real attack would come. And like a rank amateur he fell for it. He decided that he would take the job, if nothing else than to eliminate the guilt that was lingering in him.

            "First light is when we leave?" Cameron asked.

            "Yes."

            "I'm in," he told him, and felt as if something very profound had just transpired. He tried to ignore the feeling that he was on the road to another high adventure and clasped Devlin's hand, sealing the agreement.

            There was a knock on the slightly open door, making them start. Devlin bid them to enter and Karnov walked inside with Kirstin in tow. The girl looked pale, thoughtful. A shadow of the vibrant young woman that had found him on the road by Hamla and bombarded him with all manner of questions.

            "I brought mistress Telba to you as you ordered, Lord," Karnov told him and stepped to the corner of the room, standing beside the door. Cameron caught the old man's eye and they shared a smile.

            "Kirstin," Devlin began, then caught himself and choked a bit on the next word, "Daughter. I called you here to tell you that you will be taking a trip south. You will be heading to Cromley Tower, the house of a good friend of mine. There you will stay until I call again for you. Is this understood?"

            By the startled look on her face it was clear that it wasn't understood. Even Karnov had a slack jaw at the proclamation that Devlin was sending his daughter far to the south.

She stepped closer to her father and held out her hand for his, her eyes pleading for answers as to why he would do this.

            "Father!" she exclaimed, "I know what mother said those nights ago was terrible but I didn't believe that you would send me away when you found out that I wasn't your flesh and blood! I swear my love for you is no different than the when I thought you truly were my father! Please don't do this!"

            Devlin looked as if he were holding back tears, or biting words. Or both. He kept his face rigid, the way he always did when he didn't wish for any to know the emotions that burned in his blood. Still, in his eyes was the hurt brought on by her words, hasty as they were. Cameron wondered who could really blame her. She was too naive to think that he was doing this for her safety and not to banish her from his sight. Or was that merely convenient cover to be ride of her? Cameron considered it, and then banished the thought. He believed he knew Devlin better than that.

            "I love you too, child. I am not sending you away as punishment, Kirstin, but rather for your safety. Where five men would come others may follow. I do not think that they would cause trouble should the targets that they hunt no longer dwell in the village. I tell you to go to Cromley Tower for your good as well as Kamil's, who will be travelling with you. As will Cameron and the father."

            Kirstin turned to look at Cameron, her lashes bright with spilt tears and he nodded, smiling slightly. He thought that he would have accepted just for that hurt look alone. She was looking for comfort from the pains that her life had become. She was just getting a sample of the real world.

            "I have ordered Sophia to pack clothes and travelling necessities for you. When first light comes Edgar will put your goods in the saddle bags of your horse and you will leave." He added in quickly, "When this is all over I swear that I will call for you again."

            "I don't...I don't want to leave, father," Kirstin said, "But...I will if that's what you think is best." She held back tears, not wanting to look weak at this moment, wanting her father to see her strong in the face if change. There would be time for tears later.

            Father Alohm entered; his priestly robes of white and black replaced by plain travel clothes and high boots. The only thing that remained to show his priesthood was the Komin on the chain at his neck. It was broad and plain, made of silver, not like the kind any commoner could purchase at a Shoppe. He stopped in the doorway and nodded a friendly hello to Karnov who returned it, a grim expression on his face.

            "Are you ready to leave come the morning, father?" Devlin asked.

            "I am. But I must change exactly what I bring with me. Sister Julia will in no terms be left behind in the care of the runaway Ferrin so I must take him with me to watch over."

            "What?" Cameron spun to look at him, gritting his teeth, "Devlin said nothing of bringing that thief with, and I sure don't want him along for the ride. That's all we would need is to wake one morning and find that he's taken all the coin that we had to our name."

            "I will take responsibility for the youth. It is my opinion that there is far more to him then is readily known. I intend to find out what that is."

            "Great," Cameron muttered, "But when that happens I'll be holding you accountable for it father."

            "I understand," Damien replied, not seeming to care much. Cameron wondered if the man was so foolish as to think that all people were good and honest by nature. He was going to have his eyes opened wide by this trip, Cameron thought. And that thought made him feel victorious.

            "Then it is settled," Devlin said, "Ferrin may go along, father. I trust in your judgment and I think that Cameron will also come to see the wisdom in your choices."

            "Of course, Lord Telba."

            "Now I suggest that you both get rest for the morning. I will send Edgar for you when the time has come to ride," Devlin patted the priest's hand when he held it out and smiled gratefully at him. Then the father was gone.

            "And Cameron?" Devlin started.

            "What?"

            "Please leave off the alcohol for the rest of the night. I need you in peak condition when you leave the village. I will send Karnov to fetch anything that you might need from the village if you need provisions."          

            Cameron started for the door, "I'm fine. Just get your daughter ready and let me do the rest." He left, leaving Lord Telba in the study with Karnov. The old man looked older than ever, his brow knitted together at the prospect of Kirstin leaving.

            "Ya should get rest too, Lord Telba," Karnov said softly.

            "In time, Karnov. All in good time," Devlin stalked to the window and peered out into the blackness. He thought he saw the fleeting form of the father riding off into the night, making his way back to the church. Devlin sighed, folding his hands behind his back. There was so much to consider, so much had changed in the course of a single night. He knew it would be a long time before sleep found him that night. It mattered not, because he knew when he did go to his bedroom that Mirrian would not be there for him. She would be in the old birth rocker in the attic where she had spent most of the week, not wanting any servants or even her husband to disturb her. Shaking his head he continued trying to pierce the night with his eyes.

           

            Julia paced the front hall of the church, lantern burning on a low shelf to her right. The front hall spilt out into the main prayer room where several rows of pews stocked side by side would give way to a raised pair of steps near which the stand from which the father spoke was. Behind the stand on the right of the room was a single hall with four rooms, two on either side of the hall. One was Julia's room. The other, Damien's. The third had been made Ferrin's bedroom for the last couple weeks and the fourth was little more than storage for items that belonged to the church. Hidden behind a crate in the back of the storage room was small back door. Neither she nor the father knew why the door was built there when first the church was built. She often wondered late at night when she couldn't find sleep why the door had been installed there. Was it a means of escape in case of an emergency? She didn't know. But it wasn't for that reason that she wandered the front hall waiting for Damien to return from the Telba residence. It was to confess something to him that she had been keeping in secret for the last week.

            She started when the father did at last enter, so lost in her thoughts she was. Damien smiled at her, thinking that she had waited up for him, but the smile faded when he saw the guilt in her face. Hanging his travelling coat on the wall he stepped closer.

            "Sister, what is the matter?"

            "I have something to confess, father," she told him, feeling cold in the pit of her belly. She led him to one of the pews and sat him down but continued to pace. She felt better doing it.

            "Please sit, Julia. Pacing makes me nervous.
            "Of course," she said, finding a place near the father and stilling herself. She met his gaze, held it, "There is something I must confess about what happened last week."

            "Last week?" he asked, and then needed to ask no more. There could be only one incident that she was referring to, and that was when the men came for Kamil at the church. Smiling once more he told her, "There is no reason to feel shame if you were afraid during the battle. I felt fear for a bit too, before I remembered my God called on his strength to shield me. There is nothing wrong with being afraid at those moments. Only the truly foolish don't feel the tingle of fear when they enter such a situation."

            She hesitated, wondering if she should leave it at that, let him think that was all she wanted to confess, but sighed, knowing that she wouldn't feel right unless she told him the entire truth.

            "There is more," she began, "When that man was...choking Ferrin...I stabbed him with a chunk of glass."

            "You had to," Damien assured her, "He would have killed that young man if you hadn't. Ferrin wouldn't have wanted you to hesitate."

            "It isn't that. I...got a thrill when I stabbed him. I think...I liked it. I'm so sorry, father. I let both you and the One God down in my lack of faith."

            Damien smiled and tried hard to keep from laughing out loud. That was the last thing that she needed to hear, "Child, there was nothing wrong with that. You felt the thrill that comes with combat. The intoxication that draws so many into its web. But you felt the guilt of that feeling and the desire to rid yourself of it. There is nothing wrong in what you did. The One admires strong souls, those that do what must be done and worry over the consequences later. You have not let either of us down, and now I know that the church will be in good hands with one as virtuous as the head priestess."

            "Head...priestess?" Julia stared at him.

            "Of course. I couldn't leave the kingdom's lands without naming a successor to the church. You are my choice as I always knew that you would be."

            "Oh Damien!" Julia exclaimed, throwing her arms around the priest and hugging him fiercely. She kissed him on the cheek and stood up, her cheeks flushed. She bid him goodnight and ran off to her room, still smiling broadly about the revelation. Damien watched her go and then leaned back in the pew, closing his eyes. There would be much to do in the morning, preparations to make. But all of those problems fled him when sleep found him on that same pew, head craned back and hands in his lap.

            Far away the next morning the sun was obscured from sight when it rose in the cloud streaked sky near Cromley Tower. The tower was large, with a single massive turret that stretched near ten stories straight up, seeming that it would pierce the cloud cover. A much smaller second turret was molded into the stone work of the tower at the base. Measuring only two stories in height and forming only a half circle at the side of the much larger one, it was the only gate into the tower, well fortified by the Baron's troops and guard stations atop the turret. A thick iron gate stood to bar the path of any that might attempt to steal into the tower. The tower itself was tucked away on a small peninsula off the west of Twin Port by less than ten miles. Two sturdy oblong guard houses stood along the beginning of the peninsula, each one housing better than one hundred men. The formed a road for visitors to follow, but none of the visitors could see the trenches dug at the back of the guard post where men could lay in wait for ambush, or the flat roofs for men to sit behind the top lining wall and fire arrows at their leisure.

            Inside the tower, at the top of the structure, was Avernus Cromley's bedroom. Not the most lavish, the frugal baron preferred pouring coin into the hiring of men for his army. He said it for the safety of Twin Port. One never knew if the saevant would come with a raiding party, using their dark magic to pillage the great port city. But in truth the baron vied to become a player in the greater scheme of things.

            He wandered his room, always insisting on privacy to mull over his thoughts, he waited for his moment of greatness. The man rubbed a thick hand through his beard which was flame red, scratching at his chin. He was a fair man, six foot by height and weighing nearly one hundred and ninety pounds. He never relished becoming part of the fight, however, relying on his well paid men at arms to do the work for him. Avernus considered himself above such trivial matters.

            Letting his hand fall from his face the man wandered the room more, cursing his luck. He had a chance to seize real power at long last, was ready to cast his support on the king of Dagoth even though his lands were all in the kingdom of Southcross. All the baron wanted was for the king to come and pay him a visit so that they might discuss matters of state and the baron’s standing with the king before Darius waged war on anyone. But the king refused to visit him, wanting him to come instead to the castle of Dagoth if it was council that the baron sought. Not wanting to be suspected, the baron did go to the castle with one hundred of his finest men. But that hadn't been his plan.

            He desired to lure the king into the territory past the mountains and send word to Carridon Stonethrow, the king of Southcross, that Darius Steelbreeze was within his grasp. If all would have went well the king would have fallen before a major war would have erupted and Avernus, being a baron, could have seized the throne to Dagoth with his claim of noble blood. After all, he thought bitterly, the king had no heirs to the throne.

            That was what he thought until he received word from Devlin Telba of Hamla village. He said that he was the son of Peter Telba from Goran, the mayor's son. Avernus knew the name and grimaced. He remembered Peter enough to know that he hated him. The man stood for all the integrity that that priesthood required and Avernus had told him as much when last they shared heated words. It seemed that Peter failed to tell his son of this before passing away because Devlin still considered the man a friend.

            Devlin sent word that he was sending children to him to care for. A young lady named Kirstin and a man named Kamil. They were, Devlin claimed, bastard heirs to the throne of Dagoth. Darius had assassins make an attempt on their lives and failed. Devlin thought the only safe place for them now was in the care of an old family friend.

            Avernus laughed at the notion. Friend of the family? Oh he was that, that and a whole lot more. It was confirmed by his spies that men fitting the description of Dagoth soldiers were slain in Hamla. It also fit that the king would need blood heirs taken out of the way if he truly was attempting to seize the High Throne. It seemed that his luck was on an upswing. He would welcome the children and their caretaker into his tower and hold them there, use them as bait for the power hungry king. He didn't think that Darius could refuse the bait of removing one of his obstacles in so easy a manner.

            That was where Avernus prayed that the king would make a grievous error, such as splitting his forces to attack both Southcross and the tower. Or, if the ruse that Avernus was really an ally still held strong, he would send emissaries to the tower, or come himself. One way or the other the baron planned on exploiting this to the fullest. He really had to thank his friend for handing him over such a gift. It couldn't have worked out much better than it was at this moment.

            A smile played on Avernus's lips and he left his bedroom, calling to his advisors. He barked out orders and told scouts to watch for a travelling party that would near the tower in the next two or three weeks. There was only time to wait for the inevitable, and plan. And Avernus intended to do both to the fullest. Despite the heavy clouds in the sky it was a good day.