Death of a King Page 6

“Is my payment available?” he felt wrong mentioning it, Rem wasn’t sure why.

  “Aye, it is in my chamber.” Kenton motioned the barmaid. “Water, bread and eggs.”

  “Of course,” then addressed Rem, “And you milord?” she asked. He suddenly realized why the bad feeling. It was the money, it brought the party to mind. A sudden pinch of guilt tugged at him chasing away his appetite. He dismissed the girl with a hand wave. “As you wish,” she turned to the kitchen.

  The Half-Elf stared at Kenton with a sour expression, “You sighted me here, yet my coin remains behind?” his tone flat and cold.

  The Aquatic Elf made him nervous and wondered if he would thrash him. The seasoned half breed fighter fought and killed a score of the horde. The young mage cautioned upsetting the brute. He was too close to him. All Rem had to do was reach over the table and he was done for. “I am but a few moments out…” he said. Fear brewed rapidly in Kenton as Rem gazed at him silently through his lashes. Rem was preoccupied with how the party would react if they learned what he did. He wasn’t aware of how uncomfortable the young mage appeared.

  “As you say,” Rem studied Kenton. The man across him remained silent. Without taking his eyes off the mage, he stood and exited the tavern.

  He relaxed a bit when Rem left, “What have I done?” he whispered as his eyes darted about nervously, “There is no backing out now,” Kenton hissed.

  The student mage ensured Rem was gone then rushed out. He discretely watched The Half-Elf walk the street and enter the ocean side Inn. A patron entered the Inn and startled the mage. He regained himself and rushed to the library.

  ***

  Rem’s zest for the sale waned dramatically, but not enough to terminate the deal. The guilt gnawed the back of his mind relentlessly, disrupting his inner calm. As he stepped into the ocean Inn, Dregous came to mind. What would he do, he wondered? Though the coin was good, Rem regretted his agreement. He addressed the dockmaster and learned the next ship won’t arrive until noon tomorrow.

  ***

  Kenton reached the academy grounds panting and slowed to a brisk walk as he straightened his robes and wiped the sweat from his brow. He masked a calm demeanor trying not to draw attention from his fellow students. Some greeted him as he passed. Ignoring them wasn’t intentional, his mind was elsewhere as he made his way to his room. Gracefully, he entered the dormitory, the mage seemed to glide over the stone floor and up the stairs. Other students descending greeted him. Kenton dismissingly greeted anyone as he rushed to his chamber.

  The door closed with a solid thud as he leaned against it. A deep resounding sigh escaped him. He scanned the dimly lit room, noting the disarray of parchments and scrolls. Other artifacts littered his desk along with books. Kenton shifted through the scrolls and parchments, tossing aside what he didn’t need. Moments later he found Rem’s scrolls, labeled, brute. He quickly cleaned off the charcoal marker then rolled them into a bone case along with a sheet of instructions.

  Coming from a wealthy family had its perks. The young mage’s father had swindled many people out of their coin. His mother, a sweet lady blindly believed her husband was a fair businessman. Kenton thought a moment, wondering where he hid his coin. He realized the weight of one thousand coins, and decided to write a transfer note instead, and hoped Rem would accept it.

  He returned to the inn feeling good about himself and wanted to celebrate the purchase of the demonic name. Studying the origin of the name required time. Special permission was needed to access ancient entities. He would simply lie to the Master curator that his focus of the archaic would better suit his needs. That would most certainly win him points with the old mages of the academy. Other scholars would offer a handsome price for such a name. He rushed back to the inn with a slight smile. His face grew somber when he spotted Rem at the docks.

  The soft ocean breeze pushed his hair across his face. Rem stared at the choppy waters with a hand on his pommel. A small handful of dock workers pushed and carried crates and barrels.

  The Half-Aquodic Elf never realized how much he missed his seaside home. The smell and sound of the surf brought him back to his childhood. Now, he loved the sound of the sea. When marauders murdered his parents, he hated his oceanside home. His eyes burned at the memory and turned away with a scowl when he spotted Kenton approaching.

  Chapter 5

  I blame my heartaches on the damnable paladin that cursed me. However, I cannot deny the fact the wonderful things that happened since then, but now more than ever I wish I had the darkness within… It aches more than I ever have known. I once told Dregous, it is far easier being evil than good. Being good hurts far too damn much.

  Hidden footnotes of Lady Angelique Se’Deruue, Imperial Grandmaster of assassins

  Kenton’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of Rem’s expression. He feared it was for him and tried to be as pleasant as possible. “Good day,” he greeted.

  “Likewise,” Rem said in a flat tone.

  “Forgive my curiosity, I thought your visit was short.”

  “It is; however, this is the quickest way back and the ship is not due till the morrow.”

  “I see. It appears the fates wills you here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Only the fates know…” Kenton smiled, “Your payment is ready, as is your summoning scroll. Although, it is useable but once.”

  Rem studied him with an arched brow, “That is pleasant to hear.”

  “I am pleased,” Kenton lied. Thoughts of what he could gain from the service of a demon thrilled him. Rem grinned. “Join me for a meal?” Kenton offered, Rem nodded. “Shall we.”

  They made their way back to the Inn, and headed towards a table in the back, against a wall. The barmaid tended their mead as a minstrel played a cheerful tune. Thoughts of the mountain where they thought Dregous died, came to mind. The Dark Elf’s supposed demise bothered him. Guilt continued to whisper into his ear.

  “Apologies… …oh, Will you not order?” Kenton asked.

  Lost in thought, “Um, nay, pressing thoughts curve my hunger.”

  Kenton studied him, “Must be, to curve a warrior’s pleasure.” Rem arced a brow. “Well, as agreed, here is your one thousand platinum note.” Rem scowled at the note. “Please… it was too heavy for me to carry,” he hurried to explain. “All you need do is stop by the magistrates' office, show the note… it is an easier way of paying large amounts, my lord.” He prayed by appealing to Rem’s ego, the brute would agree.

  The Half-Elf considered him, then agreed pleasantly, “Aye, Gratitude.”

  Kenton’s heart sank to his feet. He was sure he would have to convince the warrior in some way. He relaxed a bit and continued, “And here is your summoning ritual.”

  Rem realized the mage was nervous dealing with him, “Well now,” he looked the case over.

  “As mentioned, it can only be used once.”

  “As expected,” Rem muttered.

  “Pardon?”

  “Nothing.”

  “As you say,” Kenton leaned closer, “I included instructions to aid you,” he suppressed his fear.

  “My gratitude.” The barmaid served Kenton’s meal. Rem leaned in and claimed his note. His thoughts continued jumping back to the party and paused a moment. The mage briefly wondered if the brute changed his mind, “Again, my gratitude, but I must leave,” Rem said.

  ***

  Water drops echoed in the darkness; an occasional pebble shifted and echoed in the distance. The chilled air tingled Rem’s nape hairs. His mouth dried as he stepped forward on the grainy floor and sighed softly. Moments later he approached a corner resembling the labyrinth they entered some months ago.

  To his right, a short corridor turned left deeper into the mountain’s belly. To his left was an unfinished dead-end corridor with a door on the right wall. He approached cautiously when the door opened. A shadowed figure stepped out staring at him. Rem wasn’t surprised, he expected someone to come out. They looked at
one another for a moment when the shadow blindly darted at him and grabbed his neck, lifting him up. Rem’s eyes bulged with fear while trying to free himself. Then it grabbed the Half-Elf’s wrist, searing his flesh as it smoked. “Bare my mark,” the shadow growled.

  “We are here…”

  Rem jumped ready to fight, panting. He looked about as the passengers and crew stared at him. “Easy friend,” said the first mate.

  “Where are we?” The Half-Elf wasn’t sure where he was when the scent of the sea filled his senses. The soft teetering motion, creaking timber and the sound of the surf behind him, filled in the missing information. He was on a ship.

  He realized the Half-Elf must have had a bad dream, or he startled him. “You asked me to wake you upon Riverbend,” said the first mate.

  “My gratitude,” Rem groaned and rubbed his eyes, then grabbed his gear and waited for the ship to dock. Once docked, he made his way to the stable to pay the hand for tending his horse. Another saddled his mount, then fashioned the bit and bridle.

  Rem rode to the mage’s guild, tied his horse, then entered. The interior seamed plain compared to the other academy he visited.

  A young mage addressed him. The Half-Elf explained he was there to pay for and collect his potion. The shadow figure haunted him more than he expected. It diminished his flamboyant salutation.

  “Your item is being retrieved,” he said. The Half-Elf nodded, he didn’t realize he sent someone else to get his purchase when the mage hadn’t moved. Rem hadn’t noticed much of anything and it bothered him. The young mage shyly looked about and leaned closer, “Forgive me, is it true, you befriended a Dark Elf?” He never met Rem but knew him by name as did many others. A group that came from nowhere and helped save their neighboring town.

  Rem arced a brow then addressed him sharply, “No…,” he recalled that night. Had he not stumbled upon Dregous and Tatiana, that would have been his last night, “…he and the princess rescued me from the goblins…” he stared into the students' eyes. “HE, befriended and sheltered me. Do not forget that.”

  The student studied the warrior then nodded knowingly as another returned with a wooden box. “Here you are,” and opened it.

  “Marvelous,” Rem whispered as he retrieved the potion, “You can find a friend almost anywhere, but nothing like the ones I have.” A pang of sharp guilt ran through him, then consumed the potion to distract himself. The spicy tingling sensation raced down his tongue and into his body as though it reached his soul. His muscles burned from fatigue and his nerves trembled from exhaustion.

  The young mage saw Rem tremble, “Powerful potions have that effect.”

  He nodded with excitement, the new sensation in his body spread like wildfire, “Aye,” he flexed his hand. “My gratitude,” he glanced at the student with a smirk, tipped his fingers from his forehead out, then exited the guild and rode out towards Riverdale. That night, Rem struck camp as the sun bid its farewell as he reviewed the scroll. The shadowy figure from his dream flashed in his mind. It took him a moment to recover.

  The tracker examined the scroll and decided to conduct the ritual. He found Kenton’s instructions quite detailed as he read through them. The wood crackled within the fire as he sighed looking at the small blaze. The Half-Elf pondered on casting the rite, when he glanced at the dying sun, “Oh what the hell. As Dregous says…, nothing ventured, nothing gained.” Rem searched through his pack and found the prime ingredient, jerky. However, it wasn’t pure, it was tainted. He figured he could purify the jerky with his blood since blood is required in the rite. The thought of performing the ritual with no prior experience tamed his enthusiasm and decided against it. How did Dregous deal with the demon, he wondered.

  Rem gathered his things to continue to Riverdale when he Realized the power he could possess, “Oh hell.” He set his things aside and prepared the chant. The sun had vanished when he finished preparing. The air began to feel dark as he studied the area. He shook the feeling off and prepared the circle. Two meters from the circle he inscribed on the earth, symbols from the scroll.

  He inflicted a light cut on his forearm with his dagger and dripped a few drops of blood on the incent. Then rinse the jerky in water and anointed it with blood. He noticed some red smears on the summoning scroll, “Oh great,” he whispered. The wine stung sharply as he cleaned the light cut, then bandaged it.

  The frigid breeze fluttered the scroll gently and chilled him to the bone. With the vanishing sun went the last of the warmth. To still his nerves he took a few gulps of wine, followed by a couple of deep breaths as he stared into the fire. In the back of his mind, guilt continues to gnaw at him. Again, he shook it off and began reading the first line aloud. The air suddenly grew heavy and felt dark, an experience he didn’t expect. Moments later and emptiness filled him, a feeling he hasn’t had since the murder of his parents. He shivered and looked about, wondered aloud. “No…, I will stick to the sword and tracking and leave the magic to Dregous.” With a pounding heart, he rapidly gathered his things.

  The cold and unearthly strangeness of the environment drew Rem’s attention, he didn’t notice the scroll absorbed the bloodstain. He decided to make haste back to Riverdale.

  The change in the air began to unsteady his warhorse. It was unusual for such a large beast to grow panicky. He pulled its reins as he stepped aside. The horse distracted Rem and didn’t notice the circle’s momentary light pulse behind him. The hairs on his nape tingled, “This is not good,” and hastily grabbed his pack, abandoning some items as the horse’s eyes widened staring at the dying pulse. Rem Roughly tucked the scroll into his armor, and curse himself for starting the ritual.

  He managed to steady his horse, hook his pack on the saddle horn. A hard tug freed the reins from the low line branch, then leaped on the beast and rode hard. The animal dashed madly through the forest when it reached the road. Rem was barely able to control him as they continued. Once on the path, the animal sprung to life and galloped faster.

  A cold sting pressed Rem, as though something was following him and glanced back, nothing. He managed the frightened beast as it struggled to run faster. The Half-Elf knew his heart would burst if it continued this pace. Gently padding its neck seemed to ease the animal, while trying to slow him. Moments later he pulled it aside.

  The tracker dismounted as he scanned the area when he felt the horse’s eyes on him. The uncomfortable air surrounded them again. “Easy boy, easy,” he soothed his neck. The hair on his nape prickled, “Oh hell, we will walk back if need be,” then unfastened the saddle and pushed it off, “I will buy new gear,” and walked his horse.

  A low hissing voice whispered in the wind, “Why did you summon me?” it was dreadful, distant and cold.

  Shivers ran down his spine as he spun, “Who is there?” he hissed. The horse reared and pulled itself free, then galloped madly, “No!” he ran after him. The horse didn’t get far when he suddenly staggered and struggled to run, then dropped on the lightly snow-covered road. “Ah, gods… why did you…” Rem sighed as he came to him. The animal laid motionless as blood seeped from its mouth and nose.

  The wind gently howled, within, it whispered again, “I am he whom you summoned.”

  He spun about, “Who the hell are you?” he shouted.

  “I have many names, but you may call me B’gailum,” he said softly.

  The oppression chilled him to the bone and shivered, “I did not call any…,” then remembered starting the ritual, “…one…” then shivered as the cold wind brushed by.

  “Aah…” he stretched, “you remember, good,” it said with a dreadful cheer. “Now, why did you summon me?”

  He recalled how Dregous dealt with the demon they freed and tried to mimic his confidence, “I wish your service.”

  Amused this mortal didn’t protect himself within the safety of a pentagram, let alone speak his demands. B’gailum decided to play along and see to what end he will go. “Truly?” he mused. “What services do you requ
ire of me?” he asked mildly sarcastic.

  Surprised, Rem was unsure how to respond. He milled around in his head what he wanted, then recalled his desire, “I want you to instruct me how to create a potion to increase my reflexes permanently.” Rem forgot he wasn’t in a pentagram.

  “Permanently?” it reflected. He could see within the Half Elf’s body, a liquid enchantment. Mortals don’t have the knowledge to create such magic. B’gailum wondered, what immortal would grant an earthen low life something so powerful? “Was the permanent strength potion not enough?”

  A curious tug in the back of his mind mixed with fear struck him. Since Dregous had done it, he was confident the demon would obey, “I thought I was clear,” Rem replied. A breeze blew past him as it built up to a strong wind. It began forming into a funnel with light debris swirling within. Shadows stretched away, twisting into loops, in and amongst other trees like tortured souls. The spectacular event made the cold night feel colder.

  Trees wilted in the wake of their silhouette counterparts as their life energy drained through the shadows along the ground, killing them. The glooms stretched, feeding the twister. Slowly it formed into a humanoid figure with a skeletal steed head. A long heavy cloak with tattered hemming hung from his shoulders. Eyeless sockets seemed to stare at him as though coming from the underworld. B’gailum stood before him, somehow impressing a warm smile through the skeletal face that seemed to reach the depth of his soul. He couldn’t see it, but Rem felt the smiling voice. Then stepped closer, grabbed Rem’s throat lifting him off the ground, still impressing a pleasant smile, “Fool,” he started gently, “you have no idea what you wrought upon yourself,” his icy cold touch burned his neck. Rem gasped for air, then was released. He dropped to the frozen ground like a ragdoll.

  He wanted to scramble away but felt extremely weak. It’s as though his strength was somehow sapped from him. Surprised, the tracker stuttered while propping on one elbow, “I command you…,” he tried to steady himself. A partial face imposed on the demon’s skeletal steed head, grinned at him knowingly. Fear grasped Rem like a vise, “I said, I command you!” he repeated in a shaky voice. The dark creature cocked his head in disbelief, though he admired him for trying. The Half-Elf realized his frightful error for trying to play a mage. He should have left the casting to Dregous. The fear of this foul entity stealing him away was a dreadful thought. Terrified of his end, but curious fear pushed him, “Are you going to take my soul?” The sense of hopelessness was far worse than he experienced as a child when his mother was killed in front of him. A feeling he knew all too well.