Chapter Five - King, Too

An eerie gloom hung over even the most elaborate halls in the old mansion which stood on the outskirts of Ahri in the south-central region of the Kingdom of Rhodhina. The field out front, where once stood a lush spread of towering sunflowers drooped miserably beneath the haze of a fog that never seemed to have anywhere else to be. It was almost as if old magic were lingering about the place.

The tall iron gates groaned a sorrowful note as Roman placed a hand on the cold, wet bars and pushed them forward, allowing himself entrance onto the grounds. The ancient mansion stood mournfully before him. He paused before the stone walkway and gazed with dread upon the old mansion, knowing who he would meet inside its walls.

He had failed. A message he must deliver to his merciless master. It wasn’t the punishment he feared, though that idea brought him no more pleasure. Roman knew the consequences of his failure. He knew enough of the plan to understand that his blunder had done more than delay the capture of the one, who held the power to do the Old King’s bidding He knew enough to realize that his failure would result in, well, he thought to himself, I don’t really want to think about it.

For the Old King who occupied this place knew even more than he. And soon enough, the true nature of his blunder would be told to him. He broke his gaze from the miserable estate and walked on, his ankle-length black coat floating lazily behind him. Down the walkway, up the stairs, and under the archway he walked, wanting only to slow his pace. A drop of cold water caught him on his way in, and it rolled down the back of his head.

Roman stepped inside. The smell of burning incense and crackling firewood filled his nostrils. The Old King, it seemed, was gazing. Roman pictured his master peering into that old sapphire perched atop a magnificent stone plinth. He had watched the Old King gaze into its depths countless times before. Did this mean he already knew of Roman’s failure? Maybe he was studying some other unfortunate subject.

Roman followed the familiar blue carpet which was lined with threads of finest silver. It led him to the door on the left and he entered with a low rumbling creak from the ancient hinges. The Old King sat before him. Instinctively, Roman placed his knee on the floor and bowed his head; the traditional gesture of greeting the Old King.

“I haven’t any time for your worship, Roman, step this way,” The Old King said, impatiently. Roman stood quickly. So, he knew. The Old King knew of his failure.

“Lord, I beg you, forgive me.”

“And what is there to forgive? You know I do not forgive, Roman.” Roman looked up.

“Master, the efforts you set before me…”

“Yes, I know. Your cowardice is going to cost you one day, Roman, but not today.” The Old King groaned as though the idea pained him.

“But…” Roman started.

“Unknowingly, of course, you have handed me something far more valuable than Adric, son of Cassian.” Roman ignored the attack on his wisdom and continued to listen.

“It seems as though the woman you brought me is more important to Cassian’s boy than his own life. That is something we can use more effectively, Roman. Had I only chosen to watch more closely, I could have discovered this much sooner. However, your incompetency has pulled through for you finally, Roman.” Roman was pleased that he didn’t seem to be receiving punishment for his failure, but at the mention of the woman, dread filled him, for he knew the woman. He even longed for the woman. How painful would it be to watch her being used as a tool for the king’s bidding? A pain behind his chest swelled like a balloon.

“What’s troubling you?” The king’s voice brought him back from his thoughts. Roman fumbled for a moment over a response and then looked up at his king.

“Nothing of consequence, my lord,” he said smoothly.

“Ah…” the king’s smile twisted on his cold face. “Let’s just keep it that way. Never forget, that I can see your heart.” His voice turned to ice as he tapped the gazing stone affectionately. “I always know,” he went on, even more menacingly. The pain in Roman’s chest returned. Had he seen his thoughts for the woman?

“I think,” said the king, “Maybe you could use a little motivation. Come, Roman! It’s time you became useful,” he rose from his seat and strode to the door with the gazing stone cradled in his left arm. Bright earrings of sapphire danced playfully from each of his ears. Roman followed reluctantly; his eyes unable to look away from those ancient jewels swinging from his ears. Envy consumed him.

He was led back the way he had entered, into the old courtyard and into the fog. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they were about to do. The king waved his hand in front of him, and an old iron gate opened, unassisted, in obedience to the Old King’s command. Through the gate stood what seemed to be a large cave entrance, just large enough for a man to enter. Above the entrance, a sign was perched with ancient symbols decorating its borders, and in the middle was written the phrase, Behind this door lie the demons who will have your bones. This was a tomb. The Old King placed the sapphire in a gold perch on top of the tomb wall. He closed his eyes in concentration and put a hand on top of the sapphire. It shone bright blue, illuminating the tomb face, piercingly bright. Roman shielded his eyes from the light.

The Old King stood back and soon the earth beneath their feet trembled at the sound of each, thump… thump… thump. Countless many were marching their direction but from where? Thump… thump… thump! In unison, they marched together. Roman whipped around to find the source, but there was nobody in sight. They were getting louder. Sure, they would soon be in view, he turned once more, and the earth trembled more violently, still, thump… thump… thump!

And, then Roman’s heart seemed to stop. He felt his face go white. He saw the king, staring with evil pleasure into the tomb entrance. He should have known. He, too, stared at the opening, for now he knew whence the marching came. He swallowed hard and turned slowly to face the old tomb. Thump! Thump! Thump!

The Old King had woken the dead. This Roman knew as he watched thousands upon thousands of the filthy, vile, reanimated dead marching in formation from within the tomb. They were awful beings, with their robes as old rags, their bodies as skeletal vessels with leather, stretched as though insufficient for flesh, and ropes of matted grease for locks of hair. Just how long had they been dead?

Instinctively, Roman put a hand to his nose, for the smell was rancid. He watched, unmoved, as they filed into ranks before them as if sworn to obey. And, finally as the last of the beings fell into place, and the earth stood still once more, the king spoke.

“At last,” he said, with great pleasure. “We haven’t met for almost six hundred years. Finally, the time has come,” he paused. “The Rhodhinian Empire is ready to rise, once again.” A storming eruption overtook them as the beings jumped and shouted a blood-curdling shriek as they rejoiced at this news. Their voices were little more than a strained screech of filth. The being that led the formation in front approached the King. Roman jumped back, not wishing his robes to be violated by such a creature. And then he noticed this one had been wearing a cape. Torn and ragged from the torment of age, it whipped through the night air, black and as vile as the being it adorned. The cape was pinned at the shoulders with metal plates, and a two-handed sword swung loosely at his hip. The creature spoke, his voice like wet sand against a stone.

“My lord, we are still faithful to you! We will serve you, the great King Seevus, even to our second death.” They yelled their approval.

“You’re too kind my old friend.”

“Death was peaceful, my lord. But revenge,” he licked his lips with a tongue as black as the cave, “Revenge is sweet!”

Seevus reached out a hand.

“Rogha,” he said, and he turned to look at Roman. “Your successor.” Rogha turned to Roman and grinned. The leather-like skin ripped at the corners of his mouth as his smile widened horrifically. Spit oozed between his brown teeth as he said,

“He looks weak. Your tastes have softened in my absence. I shall endeavor to fill that void.” His voice was like a grinding wheel against stone, consonants lingered in his speech, rattling gutturally as his breath hissed through the night air.

“And, yet, it is I who looks out at he who walks among the dead,” Roman said. He had regained his composure and cast a condescending eye upon caped being.

“Who is this man?” A high-pitched screech of a voice echoed from another being in the crowd. “Who are you to address the Wraith King?” He shouted from the crowd.

“Wraith King?” Seevus proclaimed in delight. “Rogha, you have been busy while you were away. I restore you to your former glory, Wraith King.” Seevus placed a hand on Rogha’s rotting shoulder. His skin was made whole, robes wrapped themselves around him like a gust of wind. His shoulder pads shone brightly as though illuminated, as their gold was restored to its former brilliance. A cape of sapphire blue was restored to wholesome beauty and flapped joyfully in the wind as the old commander was restored to the Old King’s side. Rogha sighed a rattling breath of relief as his transformation was completed. And then he raised his hand to Roman and began to close his fist in mid-air. Roman started to choke for breath. He struggled helplessly as Rogha raised his closed fist higher into the air. Slowly, Roman’s feet began to leave the ground as though an invisible noose were lifting him by the throat. Roman reached around for his staff. He grasped it with his free hand and pointed it at Rogha.

“I don’t think so.” Rogha’s new voice boomed. Rogha swiped his free hand through the air as though to swat a fly, and the Staff of Rhodhinia flew from Roman’s grasp.

“And now, you will bow to the Wraith King,” Rogha said. Rogha forced his clenched hand downward and Roman hit the ground with the sound of bones crackling beneath him. He struggled to rise and found that he could not stand. Rogha, still smiling, looked over at Seevus, who cackled gleefully. Seevus raised his hands, and lightning split the sky above them.