Paladin's Fall: Kingdom's Forge Book 2 Page 4

  An ambassador whose brother and husband were both killed by the Golden, guarded by her young and likely inexperienced son. Baylest could not have chosen more poorly.

  Dain himself couldn’t claim much better, however. He’d killed more than his fair share of Golden in the war, including a prince and a princess. Now he escorted his adopted daughter into the heart of the Golden’s lands—a daughter whom her own family, Mirr’s former rulers, considered a monster.

  He wasn’t sure why he’d come, let alone allowed Jin to join him. He must not have been thinking clearly. What had he gotten himself into?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Despite the altitude, Koren felt the embrace of warm, humid air as she entered the cavern. The four servant demons her master had assigned her trailed along behind like half-seen shadows. Each carried an unconscious survivor from the caravan, and at the cavern’s first fork, they veered to the left with their cargo.

  The humans would be sacrificed, and their bodies would become hosts to spawn more demons. To Koren’s thinking, no more honorable an end could come to a human, or to any other mortal, than to birth a demon into her master’s growing army.

  A few hosts would be slipped into Galena to act as spies, their demons lying dormant inside them. She knew at least one spy was already highly ranked among Galena’s rulers; someone placed there by the Master, someone even she didn’t have full knowledge of. She didn’t like to think about the fact that the Master had made plans that didn’t include her, but if her mission succeeded here, there would never be a need for him to act on those plans.

  More than a thousand demons called the mazelike cavern home now, but few ever ventured down into the tunnel on the right. That tunnel was reserved for Koren and only a select number of others. She removed her cloak and draped it over her arm, then continued deeper into the mountain. Without torchlight, the chambers grew dark as she descended, but her new eyes could see easily in even the blackest of holes.

  The air grew hotter still, the stench of sulfur and planar magic in its breath. In truth, she could feel little since her rebirth at the hands of her master’s tracker demon. Cold and heat were nothing more than hollow words now, and she was beyond them both—or rather she wished to be. Despite feeling neither acutely, they still limited her physical body. Cold stiffened her joints and slowed her movements. Heat sapped her strength and exhausted her. It was all so tedious, having to eat and drink to nourish a mortal shell, to coddle and care for it. Especially when she knew there was so much more.

  At the entrance to the final chamber in the deepest section of the cave, she left her cloak and riding gloves. A small wooden dresser, alien and out of place in such surroundings, had been placed here to hold her belongings.

  Tedious shell or no, it wouldn’t do to wear rags and filth. She had to keep up appearances. After all, she represented the great Master.

  Taking in the air’s rich minerals, she ran her sharpened fingers absently over the patch of grey scales that grew in a jagged line between her breasts. Breathing the air here could poison even the heartiest orcs. One Eye himself could only remain for minutes at a time and had passed out trying to push himself further. Koren smiled, remembering how the proud orc had been rendered unconscious by the Master’s presence. How easily the arrogant chieftain had been overcome.

  She could stay with the Master continually. She slept here in his lair, as near to his presence as possible.

  A thick column of steam rose from a large, elevated vent at the chamber’s center. When the steam touched the cavern’s roof it dispersed into thin tendrils and wound down along the walls like roots from a tree. A reddish light glowed from the vent.

  A similar—although far smaller—vent existed above, where the Master’s minor demons prowled.

  Koren knelt at the room’s edge.

  “Koren, most honored servant, you have succeeded in your task?” a powerful voice inquired. The words seemed to come from the walls, the vent, and all around Koren simultaneously. She shivered.

  “As you willed, Master.”

  Baelzeron the great demon wasn’t physically present in the chamber, but Koren knew that this was where he had cast his final spell. With enemies pressing in all around, he’d found the cavern, with its power venting from deep within the ground, and torn a hole between the planes of reality to create a pocket for himself. Millennia had passed and Baelzeron remained there still, trapped, waiting. Here in the chamber, the barrier between his world and Koren’s was paper-thin, allowing him to speak with his closest servants.

  “The message is conveyed, then?” the disembodied voice asked.

  “Yes,” Koren breathed.

  “Good. You have done well, daughter. The human and his Paladins,” Baelzeron spat the last word as a curse, “are a threat, though a trivial one. My agents among the humans work to sow discontent and distrust among my enemies. They will all be milling about like confused cattle when we strike.”

  “Our spies report that Galena has sent an ambassador to Mirr. Their choice, guided by your glorious hand, will undoubtedly provoke war with the Golden.”

  “Excellent. Are you ready to play your next part, daughter?”

  “As you command, Master.”

  “Rest now, in my presence,” Baelzeron said. “Draw your strength from me. Soon you will have much to do.”

  Koren curled her body around the central vent. She breathed deep, but did not sleep. She smiled. The Master’s plan was perfect. Soon her enemies would know of her return, and then she could cast off this mortal husk and show them how beautiful she truly was. Then they would know only sorrow and suffering and death, which was already more than they deserved.

  For her master, the world would crack and bleed and burn.

  What have I gotten myself into, Jin thought.

  Though she hadn’t seen a single one yet, the golden elves—the great boogeymen of her life—surrounded her by the thousands. She was in their land now. They had to be watching her, waiting, whispering about the half-blood girl traveling with Galena’s visitors.

  Her muscles stiff and sweat prickling at her neck, Jin rode on.

  Eight mounted knights ringed the group from Galena. She and Dain rode alongside Neive at their center. The knights rode at attention, visors lowered to cover their faces. Mail links clinked and rattled with each fall of their horses’ hooves. Ahead was the pair of rangers her father had chosen to accompany them. The rest of their party trailed behind.

  Rationally, Jin knew her parents would never have let her come if they believed the Golden would harm her. Besides, she had her father and more than a dozen armed guards with her, including two of Dain’s best Paladins, Hexen and Perthe. Hexen was one of the miners who’d fought beside Drogan during Teran’s fall, and Perthe was a wood elf Jin’s own age.

  If Koren really was still alive, this was an ideal group to deal with her. Unless she has the backing of an entire nation, a small voice in her mind insisted, and then you don’t have nearly soldiers enough.

  Mirr’s stone gates towered over the road just ahead. Looking at them as they loomed above her, Jin felt impossibly small. Once inside, her little group would be dwarfed further still by the golden elf population. Her plan to visit the city had sounded much easier back home. Reality crashed in as the heavy gates swung closed behind her.

  Too late to back out now, she thought, squaring her shoulders. We are committed.

  As if reading her mind, Dain reached over and squeezed her hand. She smiled, appreciating the comfort.

  “The ambassadors from Galena,” a crier dressed in white robes announced. Jin had seen golden elves before, but none since she was a child. She fought back the urge to stare at him. His features were sharper than her own, the brows, ears, and chin more pronounced. He looked as different from her as she did from a wood elf. The crier returned to his post
, a tower that rose above the wall. A lone armored elf watched the group from there, not looking pleased.

  Jin turned her attention toward Mirr’s interior. She hadn’t known what to expect. The surrounding streets were nearly deserted. A cluster of three hooded elves stood to one side. She followed Neive and her father’s example and dismounted.

  Neive approached the three and bowed.

  “Greetings. I am Ambassador Neive, and I represent King Baylest of Galena. With my escort are Baron Gladstone and his daughter, Jin.”

  The foremost elf pulled back his hood and addressed the group.

  “Welcome, honored guests, I am Yalla,” he said. “I am to escort you to Councilor Alpere. You may either bring your mounts, or we will have them cared for.”

  Jin recognized the test immediately.

  “We will leave them with you, along with half our guards,” Neive said. With this, the ambassador offered a measure of trust but also assured that they would know where their horses were in case they needed to leave quickly.

  After meeting Neive, Jin hadn’t been impressed, believing she had won her post through sympathy. Jin knew the stories about Verdant better than most. Her father still carried a weight of guilt over the priest’s death. But Neive’s response to Yalla hinted at an unexpected depth and subtlety of thought.

  Jin wondered if Dain had been surprised. She doubted it. Precious little surprised her steadfast father.

  With Neive at his side, Yalla led them toward the city’s heart. Dain fell in behind the pair with a second hooded figure. The third elf paired up with Jin; other than a masculine chin and a smiling curve to the mouth, she could see little of his hidden face.

  As they wound through the cobblestone streets, Yalla spoke of the city’s architecture and history. Forgetting her fears for a moment, Jin found herself awed by Mirr’s soaring spires and large domed buildings. Other than the great castle her people had built, she had never seen such constructions. Her people preferred simple, wooden structures that spoke of the quiet forests they inhabited.

  The streets opened up and they passed by a large expanse with a mound at its center. Jin stared at it. The green space seemed strange in the midst of all of Mirr’s stone and marble. Workers atop the mound were tending brilliant arrays of flowers in dozens of colors, thick shrubs, and broad trees. A tall structure of shining white marble stood at the hill’s top, surrounded by the gardens.

  “The royal tombs,” her hooded companion offered.

  “What?”

  “On the hilltop. Those are the royal tombs. Your ancestors are buried there. Well, those few whose remains could be recovered. Your grandfather, aunt, and father are not among them.”

  “My father walks before me, very much alive,” she said emphatically. Something in her companion’s tone annoyed her. She turned her eyes straight ahead and ignored the garden, its beauty now spoiled.

  “But of course, my lady.”

  From the corner of her eye she could see the broad, amused smile on his lips. She gripped the hilt of her belt knife in her left hand and fought down the urge to stick it in him. Dain, her true father, had warned her to guard her temper, and she kept his advice now. It wouldn’t do to ruin the meeting by gutting one of their hosts.

  Thankfully, her guide must have sensed her mood. He remained silent until Yalla skirted around a white fountain and then stopped before an impressive fortress.

  “The castle of Mirr,” he said, gesturing.

  The castle was massive. It towered over all other buildings in the city, soaring well over a hundred feet above the highest structures. It was beautiful, every line perfect and clean and even, yet Jin felt almost sick looking up at it. Something isn’t right with this. Where the wood elf fortress felt warm and inviting, this castle was cold and stark. The wood elves had put a primal beauty into their work, making themselves a true home. The Golden’s castle lacked detail and personality. Its walls were strong, no doubt, but unadorned and plain. The wood elf castle had been crafted to inspire comfort as a refuge for her people, and this looked to have been built to instill fear and obedience.

  Jin hated it.

  Yalla led them between six armed guards flanking a single entrance.

  “There is a barracks for your men at the rear of the castle. There are stables there as well, and we will move your horses here tomorrow. Hume, will you show them?” Yalla said.

  The cloaked figure beside Dain stepped out and led their remaining guards to their accommodations. Jin saw Neive’s son Regan glance at his mother, flash his eyes to her, and then follow them, leaving Dain, Jin, and Neive alone. After Regan and the guards had gone, Yalla guided them inside.

  To her surprise, Jin found the fortress’s interior to be the opposite of its forbidding exterior. If the exterior was meant to inspire fear, the interior was strictly for opulence. Tapestries and paintings crowded the walls. Glowing lanterns—gold instead of the blue she was accustomed to—lit the rooms and halls with a warm, shimmering radiance.

  “This is the receiving chamber. The king’s hall lies through those doors,” the elf beside Jin said. Jin followed his gaze to the huge wooden doors ahead that were covered in intricate gold and silver paneling. A pair of guards stood in front of them. “We are heading up to the royal audience chamber. It is more intimate. Less…overwhelming,” the elf continued.

  The group climbed a spiraling staircase to the fourth level. Here, as in the rest of the castle Jin had seen so far, the rooms were opulent. Plush rugs covered the hallways and the walls had been plastered and then painted a warm hazel brown. Portraits and landscape paintings hung on every wall. The landscapes showed a rich, fertile land where vineyards lined the rolling hills and green fields, broken by a network of flooded blue canals, covered the flatlands. One painting showed a towering castle, matching Mirr’s in many ways, overlooking a great city that was surrounded in turn by vast, open farmland. A range of white-crested mountains rose in the background.

  At length, the group stood before a set of mahogany double doors. Two more armored guards flanked them, their faces impassive.

  With so many guarded doors, how many guards are in the castle? Jin wondered.

  “Councilor Alpere awaits you inside the royal audience chamber,” Yalla said. He nodded to one of the guards and swung the doors open.

  The floor inside was polished granite. Light from the stained glass windows bathed the room in an array of greens, blues, reds, and golds and then fell on several rows of empty wooden benches. At the room’s rear on a little platform stood an imposing throne. Oddly, dust and cobwebs covered it, dulling its brilliance.

  Two of the room’s benches had been brought forward and placed beside the throne on either side of a long table. A wizened old elf in grey and white robes sat alone at the table’s center with the throne to his back. He looked up at their entry, but didn’t speak until they drew close.

  “Please, be seated,” he gestured with an open palm. “Yalla, would you have the food and beverages brought in. Kray, remain with us.”

  Jin’s smirking companion removed his cloak and sat to the old councilor’s right. Jin was shocked to see that he wasn’t a golden elf at all—he had the darker coloring and hair of her own wood elf people, but the features of his face were of the Golden. You’re half Golden, too, remember, the little voice whispered in her mind. As if she could forget.

  From across the table, Kray grinned at her.

  “We wait for one more to join us, but let’s get on with the introductions. He won’t mind,” Councilor Alpere said.

  Dain sat protectively at Jin’s right at the table’s end. From there, he could keep an eye on the door and their hosts and, more importantly, keep his sword arm free. Ambassador Neive sat to Jin’s left, probably hoping to guard Jin’s tongue. Jin suppressed a roll of her eyes.

 
Neive spoke first.

  “Councilor, we thank you and your people for your invitation and generosity. Neighbors shouldn’t go so long without contact.”

  “I agree. How was your journey?”

  “Pleasant. The journey took some time, and we are glad to have arrived. I am Neive, Councilor, and I represent King Baylest. Baron Gladstone and his daughter Jin have also accompanied me on this mission.”

  At the word “daughter,” Kray looked at Jin and grinned broadly again. She regretted not using her knife earlier when she’d had the chance. She fingered it casually in its sheath. If she couldn’t do anything to wipe that smirk right off the pompous elf’s face, she could at least fantasize about doing so.

  Dain reached over and patted her back. With effort, she left the knife alone.

  “Welcome, honored guests,” Alpere continued. “Word of Baron Gladstone’s Paladins and of his daughter’s rangers has reached us, even though we are far removed from the comings and goings of the outside world. You have other children as well, Baron? Younger boys and a girl, I believe?”

  “Yes. Twins—a girl and a boy—and then one very active younger boy. They keep us all busy,” her father answered, seemingly unbothered by the small talk.

  “It is good to have family. Twins are a lucky omen,” Alpere said. He turned to focus on Neive then. “Ambassador, your letter said you had an urgent matter to discuss, and you mentioned a mission earlier. Forgive my impatience, but I’m an old man with little time left to me. May we proceed?”

  “I appreciate your candidness, actually,” Neive said, and then paused as servants brought the refreshments in. She took a sip from her cup and then continued. “We have recently lost several caravans along the gold road. I am here to ask if you have any knowledge of what happened to them.”