The Emerald Throne Page 6

  Astel seemed to notice the action and began to walk towards them. “What, you save our hides just to run me through yourself?” Eleanor asked in disbelief.

  “I couldn't have let him kill you. It wasn't a fair fight. But now you're all safe, I'll be taking that pendant that's under your tunic if it's all the same with you,” Brennus replied and held out his free hand.

  Eleanor felt round her neck, forgetting the pendant that started all this madness was still round her neck. She'd tried to give it back to Astel the night before, but Astel had told her to keep it as a sign of things to come.

  Eleanor felt aggression rise in her again. “You want it, come and get it thief,” Eleanor said daringly.

  Brennus raised his sword higher and pressed it into Eleanor's neck. “I'm not stupid enough to make that mistake,” he replied whilst fixing his gaze at hers and smiling ever so slightly.

  Astel’s voice suddenly came from behind them.

  “Brennus, put your sword down,” she commanded. The statement seemed to put Brennus more on edge.

  “Take one step closer witch and I'll run her through,” Brennus warned pushing the sword in a little closer. A small amount of blood trickled down Eleanor's neck, but Eleanor refused to cry out and show weakness.

  Eleanor looked at Astel directly in the eyes whilst trying desperately to not let the sword that was etched into her neck sink in any further. "You know this idiot?" Eleanor asked.

  “Yes, Brennus has somewhat of a reputation in Rogard as a conman and a thief. I think the bounty was at five thousand gold pieces the last time I was in the capital, but I don't think you would kill Eleanor, Brennus. You’re a thief but you're not a murderer,” Astel said.

  “DO NOT presume to tell me what I am,” Brennus shouted. He looked up and then returned to Eleanor's gaze. Despite his mannerisms and confidence, she could see doubt in his eyes.

  “I am Astel, chief mage of Rogardium. If it's gold and jewels that you want, then you will have them once we reach Rogard. You have earned them by killing these bandits, but spare her life.”

  “I know who you are witch. What's to say you don't just hand me in when we reach Rogard, or kill me right here,” Brennus asked, not taking his eyes off Eleanor's.

  He began to shift a little as if getting ready to stand his ground if he was attacked.

  “Because unlike your last associates, I keep my word. You saved our lives, now I owe you,” Astel announced before sheathing her sword and staff back on the horse.

  Brennus kept his sword in place for a few seconds as though weighing up his options. Eleanor could see the inner struggle in his face. She was beginning to fear he would choose murder when he let out a large sigh and dropped his sword to his side in defeat. Eleanor sagged slightly but caught herself before standing up straight.

  “So be it,” He announced before sheathing his sword.

  “I can't believe you're letting him live,” Owen protested.

  “He saved our lives when he didn't need to dear Owen, and we could use some extra protection,” Astel answered.

  “What?” Owen said in exasperation as he stormed off towards the nearby stream, dropping his newly acquired sword in disgust.

  Astel returned to dismantling the camp and checking the bodies for supplies. Brennus turned towards Eleanor, whilst sheathing his sword.

  “Listen, sorry about that. I have to take my opportunities where I can. I've never seen anyone with such a feisty side in them before. You showed bravery then when you didn't need to. You stuck up for your friend. I respect that even if your fighting skills are well, like a girls,” he did his sideways smile at her.

  Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “Well thank you so much for not killing me Brennus, I feel so grateful!” Eleanor said in a sarcastic tone.

  “Ouch but I deserved that one. Do you have a name?” Brennus replied smiling deeper.

  “Yes thank you,” Eleanor said bracing herself, “Oh, and Brennus?”

  “Yeah?”

  Eleanor leaned back and punched Brennus square in the face.

  Chapter 9

  Elian slowly pushed himself up from the cold, rough floor he found himself on. He knew he'd been unconscious by the blackness and swirling that clouded his vision, but for how long he wasn't sure.

  As he slowly opened his eyes, he saw only darkness. Wherever he was, there were no windows giving light to the outside world. The floor beneath him was cold and mildly damp, and the air had an unwelcome coldness to it. He tried to sit up, but was met by an unwelcome nausea and dizziness, and so he laid back down for a moment before trying again.

  The second time seemed easier, and so he began to survey his surroundings. A small orange glow caught his eyes behind a bared window and illuminated the small pit of despair he had found himself in.

  The floor of the room had small amounts of hay on it, although it offered little comfort from the cold, and there was a stagnating smell of death mixed with human feces.

  The more he focused, the more he saw small puddles of dried blood mixed in with the hay which he had an unsettling feeling were his. Where was he? How had he managed to find himself here? He lifted a hand up to feel his head and felt the unwelcome cold pull of iron around his wrist.

  That was it. His camp had been attacked and everyone killed including him or so he'd thought, but if this was the fade, he didn't intend on staying long. He raised his other hand and began to feel the chains attached to his wrists. They seemed to be linked to the stone wall behind him and the more he pulled, the more the chains dug into his skin. He had to get out of here.

  What if there were others like him, trapped where ever this place was. Surely his father would send men to find them when his party hadn't returned. Elian steadied himself against the nearest wall and pulled himself slowly to his feet. He noted he was still wearing the tunic he'd been fighting in, although his shoes had been removed.

  As the chains chinked behind him, he was hit by a stinging, shearing pain down his back. This was the wake up call he'd been needing. He remembered. Remembered everything. The agonising lash after lash from his jailer, King Sleugh of the Goblins, who had sat in his make shift stone thrown, bloated and grotesque.

  He'd demanded Elian to bow to him, but of course Elian had refused. He was the Prince of Men. He didn't bow to a scab from the bad lands. That's when they'd dragged him to a cross beam and chained him in front of Sleugh.

  Every time Sleugh had demanded, Elian had refused, and every time a whip that felt like fire had been brought down on his back, burning more and more as the punishment continued. Elian had been stubborn. He'd looked Sleugh in the eye each and every time to intimidate the Goblins. To show the Goblins strength and resilience. But every beat from the whip weakened him until he could no longer stand or hold his head up high.

  He had watched with less and less concentration the blood from his own back pool at his feet before the inevitable blackness of unconsciousness had took him once more. How could he have not remembered this before, and why was he still here in this stinking cell? Was he so weak that he couldn't break out?

  Elian pushed himself up against the wall of the cell, clenching his teeth as he did so. He dare no feel around his back as he was sure his shirt was now stuck and crusted to what was left of his skin with dried blood. He had to get out of this place. Even if the King had been alerted to the disappearance of his party, he knew it would take at least two weeks to get to the mountain pass, and he had no idea exactly where he was being held. He had to escape. Maybe he would attack the guards the next time they came for him, although with what implement or strength he did not know.

  Just then, he heard the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps. A combination of fear and determination flowed through his veins as he knew whatever punishment they had in store for him next would be far greater than the last.

  He dragged himself to his feet, griping onto the stone wall, grazing his hands as he did so. He was so weak, thirsty and hungry, but he would not show weak
ness to his captors.

  Voices grew louder in the darkness until he could make out the words being said.

  “'es down 'ere. The little human. Still alive as promised. King broke 'im yesterday I wager. Would 'ave killed 'im and stuck 'is 'ead on a spike like we did the others, but King says we need him for ransom.”

  Elian recognised the voice as one of the jailers from his previous encounter. A sneering, grotesque creature like the Goblins King. Bulky and wart ridden with a green tinge to his skin, and a smell that could bring bile into the mouth of the strongest man. He felt uncontrollable shock as he realized that the other knights that had been taken with him, that he hoped might have escaped, had meet a horrible end. He was truly alone in this hell.

  A second voice spoke that seemed unfamiliar to him. “Lord Balor wishes the Prince alive slime. There will be no ransom for him and I hope he is not too badly harmed or you will feel the full force of Balors wrath upon you. You know what my Lord likes to do to traitors don't you?” The voice was level. Confident. Elian could tell this person followed through with his threats.

  Elian heard the Goblins gulp before replying. “Yes, me Lord. I will not speak 'ill of Lord Balor's wishes again. 'ere we are.”

  There was a distinctive click of the door being unlocked. Elian braced himself for the onslaught. Leaning against the wall for support whilst he put his best brave face on and prepared himself for a fight. The chains around his wrist pulling in protest. Digging harder into his flesh. As the door open, he was momentarily blinded by the light from the torch the Goblins carried, but he could clearly make out the silhouette of a man walking into the room.

  The silhouette took the torch from the Goblins and placed it on the far wall of his cell before turning to the sneering, crouched guard.

  “You may leave us now,” and then he dismissed the Goblins with a sweep of his hand. The door to the cell slammed shut, and as the figure approached Elian, he began to make out the man's features.

  He was at least 6 foot 2 tall with shoulder length black wavy hair. He wore all black leather and thick boots. His face and hands were as pale as snow and his features perfectly symmetrical and angular, but when Elian looked into the eyes of his new captor, his heart sank and the bile returned. His eyes were a bright yellow colour and glowed in the small light of the cell. Around his eyes were prominent red veins disappearing into his hair line. Whatever this creature was, he was no man.

  The creature grabbed a chair that had been left for him and brought it in front of Elian before sitting down. He made sure to leave enough distance between his seat and where Elian's reach ended. He took a long final look at Elian before asking, “have they been feeding you?”

  Elian determined not to loose his nerve replied in a husky voice from lack of use, “you’re not a man, but you're not a Goblins either. What type of demon are you?” He was wheezing with thirst.

  “One that would not see you suffer unnecessarily. Now answer my question human. Have they been feeding you?” he snapped in reply.

  Elian quickly decided there was no use defying this creature in such a question, and shock his head in response.

  The creature took a sigh, turned around to the door whilst still seated and shouted, “Goblins, you will being the human some food and water this instant. Balor will want him strong for what lies ahead.”

  Elian didn't even want to consider what Balor had in store for him, nor did he intend to stick around long enough to find out.

  The creature turned back to Elian before speaking. “To your previous question, I am what you would call a Dearg, but I prefer the title Vincent. I have been sent by Lord Balor to bring you before his presence. He is most eager to meet with you Prince Elian of Rogard.”

  When Vincent had finished speaking, Elian's fear was suddenly replaced by shear anger. How dare this upstart demon march in to this hell hole and declare he was to be sent before King Balor. Of course Elian knew who King Balor was. Every child was told the horror story of the high King of the dark, surrounded in flames with a skull for a head that contained a third eye. It was said that Balor would look for weakness in humans. Greed, despair, revenge, and strike at unsuspecting victims eating them hole. Considering most humans possessed these weaknesses in some form, Balor never had to look far. Elian knew that if this Balor got hold of him, it was the end. To Elian, Vincent became the most dangerous being in this keep.

  “Whatever this Balor wants of me, I will not yield. I would rather die!” Elian spelt out with venom.

  Vincent smirked. “My young Prince. Lord Balor has no wish to kill you. He merely wishes to meet your acquaintance.”

  “Does he wish me for gold like the filth of this place?” Elian asked.

  “There will be no ransom. Balor wants you to be his subject. He wants to use you to break the spirit of Rogard. Your father, as we all know, is failing in health. Your people look to you as their last hope. If you side with Balor, the kingdom of Rogard will bow the knee to my Lord and Rogardium will fall under his domain. Darkness will once again cover the land. Now you really must drink something.”

  Elian raced forward towards Vincent until the chains binding him wouldn't let him go any more. He was livid with rage. “I WILL NEVER BOW TO HIM.” He was panting with anger determined to wipe this creature from the face of Avalon.

  "Please calm yourself dear Prince,” Vincent smirked, "You'll burst a blood vessel in that pretty face of yours."

  He stood up from his chair and started to pace the room. “As to never bowing to Balor, you may not have a choice. Tell me, do you know what a Dearg is?”

  When Elian didn't reply, Vincent continued, “ I was a human once. Like you. Many hundreds of years ago. I'd been told some fanciful tales of Balor eating children alive but never believed them. Anyway, one day I went looking for my betrothed. Beautiful woman she was. She had a smile that could melt the coldest heart. I ran into the great forest and found her. She was laying there. Eyes open in fear, blood everywhere. She'd been mauled by something big. A bear perhaps. Beside her was the basket she'd been carrying all crushed and broken. She's clearly been picking herbs for her healing work.

  I ran to her side, screaming her name. Shaking her but it did no good. She was gone. That's when Balor appeared. A specter made from black smoke with eyes that could pierce your very soul. He spoke to me. Told me he would bring my beloved back from the grave to live once more, but there was a price. In exchange for her life, I would follow him into the darkness. Be reborn as something twisted and evil. I was so stricken with grief I agreed to his terms. As if be magic, her wounds began to heal and she breathed life once more.

  “I rejoiced and we were happy. Then, that night it started. The pain was immense. Balor's hands reaching into my heart and squeezing. Replacing every ounce of my blood with his own. When I awoke, I was as I am now, feeding off the living to sustain myself. Never seeing the sun.” Vincent was staring into nothing as though reliving some ancient horror.

  “Why are you telling me this?” Elian asked confused.

  “Because after my change, I had no choice but to bow to Balor. I can never walk in sunlight, and death follows my path, but I am powerful and immortal and I must follow my Lord’s will, even if I don't always wish it, as you will too.”

  “He will not break me,” Elian replied speaking more to himself than to Vincent. Then Elian found his strength. “I am the Prince of Rogardium. I would rather die than serve him and I will kill every last one of you abominations if I have to before I go to the maker.”

  “As you wish,” Vincent smirked. “Balor has some interesting pleasures in place for you Prince. When he is through, you will beg for release. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll leave you to your meal. I have some preparation to make and some parasites to kill.”

  Vincent stood in a graceful manner from the chair he'd been perched on and walked back towards the door of the cell. Before he left he turned back and looked Elian straight in the eyes. “I shall return tomorrow when you have rested
. We shall talk more then.” He then turned and left leaving Elian to the darkness of his cell.

  Elian slid down the cold wall to the floor, repeating the words. “I am Elian, Prince of Rogardium,” until exhaustion took him once more.

  Chapter 10

  It didn't take long for Eleanor and the others to pack up the camp. Astel had insisted they moved on quickly and under the cover of night fall before the bodies of the bandits were discovered either by men or wolves.

  Brennus had returned into the forest briefly to collect the horses his party had used, and everyone was now mounted on horse back and carefully traveling down the great road once more.

  Owen had never been on a horse before and so after some coaxing and practice, he now sat precariously on his white mare, riding alongside Astel.

  Eleanor kept up pace just behind them with Brennus bringing up the rear. They'd not traveled far when Brennus brought his horse up along side Eleanor and slowed to keep pace with hers. He could see she was concentrating on keeping the horse moving and smiled to himself.

  “Have you ridden horses much?” He asked.

  “Not since I was a small child. Where I come from, there's not much need to travel by horse,” Eleanor replied whilst staring straight a head. This was partly through concentration, but also because she had no intention of making eye contact with this Rogue who'd tried to kill her not an hour ago.

  “No need for horses? How do you all get about. You must be experts at walking,” Brennus chuckled to himself.

  “Something like that,” Eleanor muttered.

  Eleanor and Owen had decided to keep there quest a secret from Brennus. He couldn't be trusted and there was no need to tell him where they'd originally come from for fear that he'd use it as leverage at some point when it benefited him.