Mark of the Fool

Chapter 846: A City on Fire

King Athelstan startled awake.

The odour of burning wood and flesh assaulted his nose.

Light flickered through the bedchamber shutters and screams echoed outside.

Someone pounded on his door.

“My king! We are under attack!” a frantic voice called. “Ravener-spawn, of a sort we’ve never seen before! The city burns, monsters roam the streets!”

“By Uld—” The king began to swear, throwing off the bedcovers. “By the Traveller,” he corrected himself. “Call the royal guard to bring the queen and prince to safety! Make haste! Sound the alarm!”

The king rushed to his wardrobe, dressing quickly.

“Husband?” a strained voice spoke.

He looked at Queen Rosalind—rubbing sleep from her eyes—as she quickly threw on a robe and raced for the bassinet.

“What has happened?” she asked Athelstan.

“I do not know, yet.” The king dressed quickly, pulling a gambeson over his head. He glanced at the wall.

A sword given to him by the Heroes hung there: a heavy weapon taken from Uldar’s personal armoury. It was a divine weapon of immense power, though he’d yet to use it. Perhaps, this night would be the first.

Grimly, he took the sword from the wall, looking at his wife and son, hoping tonight was not the night it would be tested.

More sounds of violence came from outside, and Rosalind reluctantly slipped to the window, opening the shutters a crack.

“Oh no, oh no, Athelstan they’re in the city!” She clutched their baby to her breast.

The young prince finally awakened, immediately beginning to cry.

“Don’t fear, my love, we will protect you and our son,” he promised, striding across the room and giving his family a tight hug before looking through the window at a scene straight from the hells.

The outskirts of the city burned—black smoke rose into blacker skies— blood-draks, spear-flies and more—swooped through the skies. A carpet of silence-spiders poured over the wall, with Hive-Queens leading them to face the few defenders left on the parapet. From beyond the wall, the distinct battle-cries of chitterers echoed in the night.

But these creatures were not what held King Athelstan’s eye.

A pair of nightmares were perched on the wall.

The first was gigantic, shelled, and gripped the parapet with razored claws—part spider, scorpion and beetle—and not much smaller than a keep. It released a low, ugly sound, then fired blasts of air, with the force of projectiles, from dozens of holes in its shell.

The invisible shots demolished stone, turned proud warriors into hunks of mewling meat, and fed the flames, making them flare brighter and spread faster.

Nothing seemed able to stand before the creature on the parapet, but it was just one of the nightmares.

Perched on its back—only illuminated because of the flames racing across the city—was…something the king couldn’t identify. It was small and humanoid, yet Athelstan spotted the outline of spider-like legs emerging from its back.

Before he could look any closer, more pounding sounded at the door.

“We are here, your majesties!” called the bull-voiced commander of the royal guard.

“Come in!” he called. “Get the queen to safety—”

The door burst open.

He swore.

Queen Rosalind screamed.

His royal guard was now at the chamber door, lying on the ground, butchered.

Standing over them were three humanoids—their hides like scabs encrusting their bodies—with red coating their claws and venom dripping from stinger-like fangs.

“My king, we are here!” one called; its voice an eerie mimic of the dead captain’s.

“Back, you devils!” King Athelstan jumped in front of his wife and child.

The creatures sprang.

He raised his blade.

They were quick, savagely quick, but King Athelstan was no helpless recruit.

Uldar’s divine blade split the first from crown to crotch, but the other two were also leaping for him.

A claw ripped the side of his face. Red sprayed.

Another slashed at his gut, he barely dodged from it tearing his guts free.

The king’s reply was brutal.

Stepping forward, he spun Uldar’s sword, slashing a monster’s claw off and driving it back.

The other lurched in, jaws spread wide, ready to clamp down.

He hammered its temple with the sword’s pommel; a sickening crunch came from its head, and the Hunter fell like a stone.

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The king turned on the last, but Rosalind’s shout tore his eyes from it.

“Athelstan, behind you!”

He whirled.

His wife hadn’t screamed.

She couldn’t scream.

The one who’d called his name was a fourth Hunter, perched on the windowsill, having torn open the shutters.

Its claws were buried in his wife’s throat. She gurgled, her eyes wide with horror. Their child was screaming, she still clutched him close, protecting him with her body.

“No, Rosalind!” King Athelstan shrieked.

Pain seared through his back, driving into his stomach.

His eyes had left his opponent for too long; red, dripping claws protruded from his gut, after entering his body through his back.

His strength was failing, but his child…he had to save his child.

With a roar, he tore his body free of the monster’s claws—lacerating his core in the process—he elbowed the creature in its face. Stinger-like fangs flew as it stumbled back, Athelstan lurched for the one on the windowsill.

His wife was dying.

Her killer turned toward him, licking its fangs.

He was dying.

The world was darkening around him

But if he could only save his child—

‘Traveller,’ he prayed. ‘Traveller, please, help me!’

Suddenly, the world brightened.

An immense light and blazing heat were behind him.

All eyes whirled.

In the doorway stood three figures.

A tiny woman.

A tanned, white haired man covered in tattoos.

And, a lean, dark-skinned man with crimson eyes, he was raising a blade.

White fire roared around that blade.

Everything seemed to happen at once.

The woman’s hand—holding a bronze dagger—whipped the blade over the king’s shoulder. He heard a shriek behind him and turned.

With a shudder, the Hunter on the windowsill went limp, the dagger sinking deep in its eye socket. Its claws slid from Rosalind’s neck and it plummeted to the ground.

“Rosalind!” King Athelstan cried, reaching for his bleeding wife as she fell.

The remaining Hunter leapt for him.

But, the crimson-eyed stranger was faster.

White flames roared around his blade, he blurred into the room and slashed the Hunter from neck to gut. There was a hiss of steam, and the Ravener-spawn burst.

Without missing a step, the man—who the king thought was an engeli sent to save them—rushed to him and his wife, dropping his sword and muttering something beneath his breath.

His hands began glowing with golden light and he pressed his palms to their wounds.

Athelstan felt a soothing energy wash over him.

Feeling returned to his limbs. Pain ended.

Before his grateful eyes, his wife’s brutalised neck knitted back together. She coughed, then gasped for breath.

When their wounds were no more, the crimson-eyed stranger stepped back with a gentle smile.

“T-thank you,” the king gasped, drenched in icy sweat. “Thank you. Rosalind, are you alright, my love? Our son still clings to you.”

Queen Rosalind held the prince tightly. “H-he’s unharmed. And I am better, I’m feeling like myself again.” She looked at the strangers, lowering her head. “By the Traveller, thank you! Thank you for our lives!”

“Yes,” the king added, looking at the strangers in awe. “Thank you for my family.”

The white haired man said something in a tongue that Athelstan did not understand.

He and Rosalind were speechless, until the sounds of clinking armour echoed down the hall.

“Your majesty!” Court Wizard Errol stepped over the bodies of the king’s guard, leading his apprentices and a line of armoured knights. “Are…by the Traveller, what happened here?”

“We were rescued,” King Athelstan rubbed his belly. “Barely. Who are these individuals? Are they engeli? They saved our lives.” He nodded to the three strangers.

Court Wizard Errol glanced at them. “I believe they are mercenaries hired by the General.”

“Mercenaries?” King Athelstan’s eyebrows rose. “How did they get into the castle?”

“Guards everywhere are dead, your majesty,” Errol informed him. “Your majesties and his royal highness are in grave danger. We must get you away from—”

“No.” King Athelstan raised his sword. “I will not hide like a worm while my kingdom burns. You there—” He nodded to several knights. “—take the queen and prince to safety. Errol, brief me on the situation. And someone help me with my armour!”

“I told you entering the castle was a good idea,” Ezerak Kai said, following the knights filing into the hall. “It wasn’t normal for there to be no guards at a king’s gate.”

“You were right, and I was wrong.” Kyembe kept his hand on his sword, listening to the sounds of carnage echoing outside.

“Shit, shit!” Wurhi clawed at the sides of her face, her eyes bulging. “Did you see all those things outside? Why are we here? This was the stupidest thing we’ve ever done, I can’t believe this, we’re all going to die! Every last one of us!”

“We will not.” Kyembe mused. “These creatures are many, but not invincible. We will burn them away like so much mist beneath the morning sun.”

“Our bodies are gonna be bloated fly-food by morning!” The tiny thief grimaced. “By all the demons and gods, I swear if we end up dead in the hells after this, my soul’s gonna chase yours forever!”

Kyembe gave a deep, rich laugh. “I have lived through deadly battles many times before. It will take more than these foul creatures to claim me.”

“And what about me?”

“You too.”

“You’d better be right,” she shuddered.

“I am: if you die, you will not see any of the gems we were promised. I know you will not allow anything to kill you before you are paid. And perhaps the king—” He nodded to King Athelstan, clad in his armour and leading the group through the castle halls. “—will reward us as well.”

“He’d better.” Wurhi growled. “Didn’t think we’d be fighting during the end of the world. Where the hells is this place anyway? I can’t understand anyone.”

The Spirit Killer merely smiled. “You would not believe me if I told you. By the way, what did you say to the king, Ezerak? You spoke in a tongue I did not understand.”

Ezerak Kai smiled wistfully. “I spoke in my mother tongue. I told him: ‘From one king to another, I will aid you.’” His smile faded. “This battle reminds me of when I lost my crown and kingdom. I will not let that happen to another. Not if I can do anything to stop it.”

They fell into silence as they marched on.

King Athelstan’s armour clinked as he walked down the hall, flanked by his knights and accompanied by Court Wizard Errol.

“How did this happen, Errol?” Athelstan asked, his mind returning to his wife and child on their way to safety through the castle’s secret passages.

“Those monsters came out of nowhere,” Errol said grimly. “And they’d overtaken most of the walls in minutes. Were it not for Tobias, the priests and the General’s mercenaries, things would be much worse.”

“Where is Tobias now?”

“At the cathedral, working miracles against the spawn from a place of power,” he said.

“Good.” The king touched his breastplate. He still could not believe he’d been impaled only a short while earlier. “And how did those creatures infiltrate the castle, how did they breach the walls?”

“We are trying to figure that out,” Errol growled. “They killed the guards and then went looking for anyone who was in a position of leadership. They are unnervingly intelligent. Were it not for some sharp-eyed soldiers who noticed that the castle was too quiet… Anyway, already many have been lost, and we are ridding the castle of these spawn.”

“Indeed, and if it were not for the General’s mercenaries, I and my family would be dead.” The king’s brow furrowed. “And what about the Ravener-spawn on the wall?”

“The General informed us that the Ravener had used certain more powerful spawn in the elder times,” Errol said. “I believe that was one of them.”

“The elder times…then this is it, is it not, Errol?” King Athelstan asked. “Then it appears the Ravener helping Thameland is at an end. This is the great battle of our time.”

“I fear it is, my king.”

Athelstan’s lips formed a hard line. He touched the symbol of the Traveller around his neck. “And we will face it with all our might.”

The group emerged onto the battlements.

“There, the king!” someone cried.

Below, soldiers and knights fighting in the courtyard cheered at their liege’s arrival. Many looked bloodied. All looked tired.

King Athelstan raised his sword, eliciting another cheer.

“We must drive them from the city, Errol.” The king looked at the giant Ravener-spawn on the wall. “I will not have Thameland’s capital in the hands of beasts.”

The words left his lips.

An explosion ripped through the air.

Screams echoed through the night.

Errol turned. “My king, get dow—” was all he said.

A blast of air tore the court wizard in two.

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