Asgoleth the Warrior

chapter FOURTEEN

Demos glared angrily out of his chamber window at the far off Agar Mountains. Since his return from the blasted lands three weeks before he had faced nothing but one setback after another. Somewhere in those mountains a ragged army of Hillmen and Torran survivors lurked.

They moved at will, destroying his supply columns, attacking and burning his outposts in swift hit and run raids. His men were no match for the desperate and vengeful Torrans. Some of the Torran scum had been captured but all of them had died rather than reveal the location of their companions.

He suspected that the barbarian Asgoleth had a hand in their rebellion but he could not verify it. He had lost his control over the mind of Amira four days after she and the savage had escaped. Perhaps they were both dead out in the wasteland somewhere but he did not really believe that.

He had shared their nightmare journey, watching through her eyes as they battled their way across the Blasted Lands. He had watched with contempt the barbarian's efforts to care for the girl. Saw how he forced her to drink what little water they had, saw the brute’s anguish when he, Demos, caused her to fight and struggle against him. Yet still the barbarian struggled on with his burden. His last sight through her eyes had been of the barbarian brooding over a small fire. He had been cooking meat from their horse which had died earlier that day but when he tried to get her to eat Demos had not allowed her to do so. Finally the barbarian had given a growl of anger and raised his fist.

‘Forgive me, Amira.’ he had said and then his fist had lashed out and darkness had closed in on Demos.

Since that time he had been unable to regain control of the girl. Perhaps the savage had finally slain her. Aye, perhaps he had. Demos shook his head, he knew that if the situation had been reversed that is what he would have done.

A sudden sharp twinge of pain in his arm made him jump and curse. He had used his ancient arts to heal the broken bone swiftly so that he had full use of the limb but still, on occasion, it pained him deeply. If he ever managed to capture that filthy barbarian animal again he would exact a terrible revenge upon him.

His musings were disturbed by a knock on his chamber door.

‘Enter.’ he called. The door opened and a guard entered the room and saluted.

‘My lord, General Valshin seeks an audience with you and waits outside.’

‘Then show him in you fool and be quick about it.’ he snapped. The guard saluted again and left the room and a moment later the general entered.

Demos looked at him coldly. General Valshin had been put in command of the garrisons that now manned the old Torran forts; to him had been given the task of quelling any rebels who still lived. A task he had so far failed miserably at.

Now however Demos saw a glint of eagerness in the man’s eyes. Perhaps at last he had had some success against his foes.

‘Well what have you to report?’ Demos demanded. General Valshin swallowed nervously and said,

‘My lord, two days ago one of my patrols ambushed and captured a group of hillmen. The prisoners proved to be as stubborn as all of those hill bred dogs. There was one among them though who, in exchange for gold and his life, will lead us to the enemy camp.’

Demos raised an eyebrow and said,

‘You have done well, general. Have this Hillman delivered to me, I would have words with him.’

Valshin grinned when he saw that he had pleased his master.

‘The man awaits outside, my lord.’

Valshin clapped his hands and the door swung open once more to admit two burly guards who bore between them the chained, ragged figure of a Hillman. They threw him to his knees before Demos and held their weapons ready for the first sign of treachery.

Demos settled himself comfortably on a divan and gestured to a slave girl who rushed to fill a golden goblet with fine Torran wine. He dismissed the girl and sipped appreciatively for a moment or two before finally turning his cruel gaze upon the cowering wretch at his feet.

Small, bright eyes stared back at him from a filthy bearded face. The marks of much hardship clung to the man and he held himself tensely as he knelt on the floor. Demos surveyed him coldly for a few seconds more then said,

‘So, my friend, I have been told that for a price, you would be willing to lead my soldiers to the encampment of your friends. Why would you betray them to us?’

The Hillman snorted in disgust.

‘They are no friends of mine, great lord. What have I ever had from them save an empty belly and an even emptier purse? With your gold I will be able to live well in this great city and have all that I desire.’

Demos stared shrewdly at him.

‘It is as you say, Hillman. With gold in his purse a man may indeed live well but gold has to be earned. If you answer my questions truthfully you will be given more gold than you have ever seen before. If you do not, you will die. Do you understand?’

The man grinned and said,

‘Ask what you will, my lord and I will answer as best I can.’

‘Very well then,’ said Demos. ‘Tell me then who has raised the Agar warriors against me and how many men do they number?’

The Hillman’s brow creased in thought then he said,

‘My lord, the Agar number some three thousand men. There are also five thousand men of Torr who fight with them with more joining them every day. They have been brought together under the leadership of a giant yellow haired barbarian named Agoleth of Calthia.’

Demos nodded at his words. His suspicions then had been correct; the barbarian was behind the rebellion against his rule.

‘Tell me more, Hillman. Does the princess Amira still live?’

‘Aye, my lord she does. The yellow hair carried her into our camp one night just after sunset. She was bound and gagged like a common slave girl and he carried her over his shoulder like a sack of corn.

When he appeared suddenly out of the gloom our sentries were taken by surprise. So silent had been his approach that not even the camp dogs heard him. The sentries attacked but he beat them aside easily using only the flat of his blade. Then he just stood there smiling as at some jest.

Our chief, Bal Shoteb, must have heard the noise for he came charging from his hut, bellowing his war cry and waving his great sword. The yellow hair made no move to defend himself. He just stood there with the girl across his shoulder as Bal Shoteb rushed towards him. Then, just as it seemed that he would lose his head, Bal Shoteb came to a halt and lowered his sword. He stared at the yellow hair then to everyone’s amazement, he gave a shout of joy and rushed forward to embrace the barbarian. Then he turned to face the people who had gathered around.

‘Look you upon this man and welcome him here as a friend. He is my sword brother, Asgoleth the Calthian, bid him welcome.’

A cheer rose up from the people then they fell silent again as the yellow hair raised a hand.

‘Hear me, Agar warriors. This girl I carry is the Princess Amira of Torr. She is the rightful ruler of this land and with your help I intend to restore her to her throne. Will you help me do this?’

The warriors roared their agreement and there was much excited talk. Finally Bal shoteb bid them to be silent and asked the barbarian what everyone wanted to know. Why was the princess bound and gagged?

He replied that she was under your spell and the warriors growled with anger. Bal Shoteb summoned the shaman of our people who whisked the princess into his hut, there to work his magic in an attempt to undo the spell that bound her.’

The Hillman paused to catch his breath and glanced at the brooding Demos. Encouraged by the tyrants attention he went on.

‘While the shaman worked, Bal Shoteb ordered a feast to be prepared in honour of the barbarian. They ate and drank and talked far into the night and in the morning runners were sent out throughout the mountains to spread the word that the princess, free now of the spell that held her, intended to raise an army against you. Men flocked to serve under her banner and soon there were so many that a war camp was established in the Valley of the Eagles.

A council of war was held and the Torrans placed themselves under the command of the barbarian. Bal Shoteb announced that the Agar warriors too were his to command. Since that day the warriors have ridden forth at his orders to harry your soldiers who fall before them like wheat before the scythe.’

He stopped and looked expectantly at Demos who sat silently upon his divan. Demos studied the man coldly and the Hillman wilted under that cruel gaze and shivered, uncertain if he would be given gold or death. Wickedly enjoying the man’s obvious fear Demos let him sweat for a time until at last he said,

‘Take him away and see that he is well cared for. Keep him in his quarters I shall have a use for him later. Go.’

The guards led the relieved Hillman away and when they had gone demos looked at general Valshin.

‘With that wretch to act as a guide do you think you and your men can destroy this ragged army?’

Valshin grinned broadly.

‘Aye, my lord I can do it. Give me the chance to come upon them with my army and I shall wipe the scum from the face of the earth.’

Demos nodded,

‘Very well, General, prepare your men for departure. You will find and destroy the enemy camp; when you have done so you will then bring your men to the borders of Drask. There I shall await you with the rest of the army and when you arrive we shall invade. Too long have I allowed these rebels to delay my plans of empire. Soon the world will learn to fear my name. Go now general and carry out your orders.’

The general saluted and headed for the door and demos called after him.

‘Remember, Valshin, I want that barbarian alive. Do not fail me in this.’

General Valshin saluted him once more.

‘I will deliver him to you personally, my lord.’

Demos grinned as he watched the general go. At last things were beginning to go his way once more. Within a matter of days he would lead his army into the neighbouring land of Drask and add that kingdom to his domains. Then he would go on from there. Country after country would fall before him until he was the master of the world. With the terrible power of the Heart of Ra his to command, none would be able to stand against him. He spoke to one of his slaves.

‘You there, summon my generals to me at once.’

The slave bowed low and hurried off to do his masters bidding. Demos followed the slave out and made his way towards the throne room. As he walked, those he passed fell quickly to their knees and he grinned at their subservience. They knew who their master was and soon the rest of the world would know it too.

Finally he reached his destination and even as he took his seat upon the Torran throne, the first of his generals arrived. Within moments others arrived each one eager to take his place, fearful lest they arouse their dark lord’s anger by being late. Soon all were present and they waited in silence for Demos to speak.

He looked them over coldly and took pleasure from their fear of him. At last he said,

‘I have called you here to instruct you to prepare the army to march. In three days time I intend to invade and conquer the land of Drask.’

He sneered at their looks of surprise and waited to see if any would question his commands. Some exchanged nervous glances but none spoke out and demos smiled with cold satisfaction at the power he held over these men and through them, over thousands of others.

He knew full well that each one of them was worried about the reports that had been received from their homeland. The undermanned garrisons which had been left behind in Akon were coming under ever more daring attack by warriors of the lands that bordered Akon.

In the south lay the mysterious, unexplored lands of the Black Kingdoms’. Their bloodthirsty warriors had long been eager to surge across the Akonite border to loot and burn and kill and now that the bulk of the Akonite army was engaged in Torr, they were becoming more savage in their attacks. It could only be a matter of time before they succeeded in breaking through the weakened Akonite defences with dreadful consequences.

To the east and west too lay lands whose warriors bore no love for the Akonites. Under the combined assaults of so many enemies Akon must eventually fall. Each of the Akonite generals present in the throne room knew this to be true but not one of them spoke up to oppose their tyrant king. They feared that to do so would be to invite a hideous death at the hands of Demos’ sorcery and none were willing to risk that.

Demos sneered at them in open contempt and waved a hand in dismissal. One by one, carefully avoiding each other’s eyes, they turned to go to their appointed tasks.

Suddenly an old man, clad in the robes of a royal chancellor, stepped forward and spoke in a voice that cracked with age and fear,

‘Lord King, I beg you to reconsider your commands.’

A deathly silence filled the throne room as all eyes turned towards the old man. His name was Krytos and he had grown old in service to the Akonite throne. He had watched with growing dismay as Demos had taken over and now at last, he had found the courage to speak out against this cruel, arrogant, upstart who seemed intent on bringing ruin and destruction to Akon.

His eyes met those of Demos and in his masters eyes he saw a barely suppressed fury. He blanched under that diabolical gaze and instantly regretted his decision to speak out but it was too late to back out now. Demos raised an enquiring, mocking eyebrow, inviting him to speak. Krytos straightened his shoulders and said,

‘My lord, I beg you to be cautious. Our forces, both here and in Akon are thinly stretched and hard pressed by enemies. Unless we reinforce our borders Akon will be invaded by our foes. If that happens our lines of supply will be cut off and our army here in Torr will be completely surrounded and must eventually be destroyed. Our first loyalty must be to our homeland and our people. Please my lord, do not go on with your plans of conquest until our land is safe behind us.’

Slowly Demos rose to his feet and stood poised, like a venomous serpent about to strike. His eyes burned with rage and his voice was a hiss of fury.

‘You dare to question my orders fool? You dare?’

Krytos, shaking with terror now, fell to his knees and opened his mouth to speak but before he could do so demos snarled,

‘Hear me now, all of you and heed well my words. This fool dares to tell you where your loyalty lies. Know then that your loyalty does not lie with Akon but with me. I am your master and I hold the power of life and death over all of you. You belong to me and to nothing and no one else. The army will be made ready to march. We will invade Drask. Any who object to this may speak now.’

Only a terrified silence greeted his words and everyone there fell to their knees before him. He glared at his cowering subjects and satisfied that his mastery of them was complete he turned his attention back to the unfortunate Krytos.

‘Have you anything else to say, fool?’

Krytos, began to plead for his life in a quavering voice.

‘Dread lord forgive me I beg you, I meant no disrespect. I feared only for my country and her people. My only wish is to serve you to the best of my humble ability. My life, my heart, belongs to you.’

He looked up and saw that he would receive no mercy. Demos was grinning down at him and that dreadful ring upon his long thin finger started to pulse. Menace filled the throne room with a palpable aura that chilled the hearts of those who knelt upon the floor in fear.

Demos continued to grin coldly and to Krytos that grin grew huge and filled his whole world. It was a sight that repelled and sickened him but he could not tear his gaze away from the face of his hellish tormentor. At last, after a seeming eternity of terror, Demos spoke, his voice cold and cruel.

‘So your heart belongs to me, fool? Then I will have what is mine.’

The deadly ring flashed brightly and a beam of unearthly ruby light shot out from it and enveloped the old man in a nimbus of glowing light. Krytos stiffened and jerked upright at its touch, his eyes flying wide with horror. Demos held out his hand and snarled

‘Give me that which is mine, fool. Give me your heart.’

A ghastly ripping, tearing sound was heard and Krytos, held helpless by the power of the ring, began to shriek. His eyes were wide with disbelief and shock as he watched the front of his robe rip open as if invisible hands were tearing at it. His shrieks became higher and shriller as his scrawny chest surged outwards as though something inside it sought to escape. He cried out in his agony as the skin began to rip and split. Blood spurted and sprayed out as the ghastly rent in his flesh grew larger. Finally, with a last powerful surge, his chest burst wide open in a spray of gore. Red flesh and white bone glistened in the light and out of his ruined body a fist sized object flew. Across the throne room it hurtled, spraying blood, until with a soft, wet, slap it landed in the outstretched hand of Demos.

Horribly Krytos yet lived, kept alive by the power of the gem. His shrieks died slowly away into blood choked moans and Demos sneered at him. He held aloft the still quivering heart, looking at it with contempt, and then he tossed it casually aside. The glow of the ring faded and Krytos was at last granted the mercy of death. His frail, broken body slumped to the floor and lay there in a widening pool of blood, a ghastly warning to the others.

Demos scowled at his cowering terrified subjects. Many were sobbing and gasping with shock and horror at what they had just witnessed. Demos nodded in satisfaction. Word of these events would spread swiftly and no one else would even think of questioning his slightest whim in the future. He grinned and said,

‘Does anyone else wish to question my commands?’

Only silence answered him and he laughed.

‘ I thought not. Now go and carry out your orders.’

There was a rush of bowing, groveling people and in moments the throne room was empty save for Demos and some slaves. He sat back down on the throne and said,

‘Have that mess removed at once.’

The slaves scurried to obey and he leaned back on his throne and smiled as he envisioned the vast empire he was about to start building.