The Quest of Water and Steel (Gothos Rising) by Selena Wolfcastlin - HTML preview

1.

Village of Alderswood: Northern Territory

Alther Kalanus, named king of the Gothos looked over the countryside that was laid in ruin. The village was burning and bodies lay strewn across the grassland. It was a horrible altercation that he knew would have happened sooner or later. His mount, a strong, well-muscled war horse shifted under him. The king placed a gloved hand upon the mane of the horse to calm its restlessness. The stallion was once a wilding that roamed the woods was caught and broken by his very hands at the age of sixteen. He was dressed in gray- green armor with the sigil of an eagle surrounded by a snake eating its own tail. The chainmail was darned in a few spots revealing the bandages his arch-healer; Demius dressed the wounds when the battle had fallen into a hush. The king rolled his shoulder to test the damage inflicted on his shoulder and arm that often held his sword. A shot of pain rolled through him and mulled in his chest like heady mead.  The cloak wrapped around his shoulders was tattered at the threads and spattered with blood, and ash.

The Northern Territory of the land called Gothos by his ancestor Ser. Kranos the Red Fire had come to this land with his family by boat so many centuries ago after being betrayed by his brother Lord Methadius  of Blaugh Island. King Ursa, the legendary peacemaker king, was Ser. Krano’s grandson. His pride would not get the better of him on this day or any day for his knew that without the six mystical and powerful stones that protected his land and kept things in harmony he could not have crushed the rebellion in the Southlands. Reaching up he stroked his copper colored beard, the smoke hiding the great grief rising within him. His son the great and beloved boy prince, Robert Kalanus had been killed at the ripe age of fifteen and would never step into his robes and rule the land and keep the four territories at peace. There was always warfare, it was unavoidable but in his many years as king he had kept it to a minimum. The battle between the four territories was not the greatest threat at the moment. The Scythian race, beings that could be physically beautiful or terribly monstrous had shown themselves to be the biggest threat to the land. These creatures that drank blood from humans needed to be eradicated, but he feared it would not happen in his own time. The moon had reached its zenith and all had fallen quiet and hushed. Exhaling deeply his gloved hand patted his mount and started to trek down the hill back into the ruins of hell itself. The deep feeling of loss was palpable as he neared the huts that once held cheerful residence. A man of fifty-five and built like a warrior, the sight of such destruction aged him very quickly.

His son had been laid to rest in the great hall of the largest building that had once been a tower keep. Upon the great table the body of the boy laid after being washed and dressed clothing for his cremation. To their tradition the funeral would occur as soon as possible, lest his spirit haunt the place restlessly. Anger and despair were the only emotions his royal highness could feel as he stood firmly before the front of the table gazing down at the lifeless form of his only son. Emily, his dearest wife and queen had passed from this world giving birth to little Robbie leaving him with two sons. He was grateful and blessed to have two heirs, but he had hoped his youngest would be named his successor instead of his brother Damon. The eldest coveted his position and ignored the knowledge stubbornly that his father might not choose him to be heir to the throne of Golthos. Alther tried to comfort himself with the knowledge that Damon was loved by his men who he trained and fought with and would be rid of the Sythians and all other enemies that would take up arms against him. The king could not though ignore the fact that Damon was also known for his cruelty and calculated nature. The prince would have surely killed his father if he wasn't so sure that he would inherit. For now the young man now eighteen would be content in his stone fortress of MacCoven, raising arms for battle as often as possible. It was common knowledge that the prince has called together a group of warriors called the Gogothian Knights that would mount a crusade to extinguish the demons that howled at night for human blood. It would of been a great victory for the king in his years that he knew were now short he wished vainly that he had been the one to take on these creatures and not burden his son with the responsibility. All he wanted now was peace that deep inside he knew would not come. Shaking his tired head he turned from the body of his dear son and called aside his Captain, Lucrus Arelius  giving him orders to send men out to secure the area and send a message to the Guards of the Great Stones of what has transpired. Not being a man of words he didn't want to draft the letter himself the anger still hot in his veins at the loss of his son. The blame could not go to these men and women who administered their gifts and energy into protecting the overall health of the land. No, they could only do so much, the Guard of the Stone of War had been the council at his ear and he knew he would not have succeeded without it. The stars were bright in the sky as he stood at the entrance of the great hall awaiting the arrival of his only living son and heir, Prince Damon.

The King's eyes were fixed on the horizon when a group of his men arrived on their horses with a young man perched upon his black stallion, armor gleaming in the moonlight marred with the blood of the poor and wretched soul that had crossed his path in battle. Upon getting closer the prince dismounted from his horse and gave a formal bow to his father and king. The crown prince was not a tall man but not a short one either. His build was medium with broad shoulders and well-muscled arms under the gleaming armor. As his younger brother had been fair haired and skin, he was dark with tanned flesh from being out in the sun. His dark brown hair was pulled back over the nape of his neck and his eyes were the color of onyx. Even as he rose from his bow he surveyed his father with that cold and calculated blackness. The men always compared the prince to a hawk with a slight curve of his nose down taking up most of his face.

"My lord king and father. The rebellion has been quelled. I have made sure that it will take many, many years before they can mount another attack on us “The young man said, the corner of his mouth turning into a smile that would cause a shudder through a weaker man. Alther stood firm acknowledging that even through his grief that his elder son had been the bringer of this victory. It didn't lessen the blow of the news he would have to impart on his child.

"My son, your brother has fallen in battle. You are my only living heir and will rule when I die" he said, his voice tight with emotion he was trying hard to keep back. To his surprise he saw an expression he did not expect from the child of his linage. He could see a glimmer of joy rising in the other man's eyes.

It will soon be mine! Damon thought as he stood there gazing at the graven face of his father, the high king. Try as he might he could not keep his joy at bay. Seeing that his father had picked up on these emotions with all of his might he forced himself to look contrite, hoping his father would think himself mistaken if he had seen it at all.

"My poor, dear brother. He was not a man of battles but that of court and of wooing ladies “he said silkily. “His body at once must be burned, lest bad humors and spirits fill this hall “he added solicitously. The truth is he had always since childhood despised his little brother. The creature that not only robbed him of his mother by taking her life in birth, but would have taken the inheritance that was rightfully his! Now fortune had smiled on him and given him the opportunity he had prayed for. When he became king he would appoint new guards of the sacred stones who he could mold and manipulate to use their powers for his own ends. In their fealty to him they would make him a god among men. The prince kept his thoughts and intentions hidden guarded close to his chest as the next day came and standing next to his father, surrounded by his men as a large pile of wood was built as a funeral pyre and his brother's body was laid upon it. Even as the torches were put to the logs, Damon was already plotting out the assassination of his father. HIs father was a doddering old fool if he thought the knowledge of being the next in line would satisfy him. It was his luck that his brother had died in battle and would save him the time and coin carrying out a similar plan for him. Robert was always astute even as a child and knew of his brother's nature and was always quick to protect his father, but now all of the doors were open to him.

Turning his head he looked at his father standing solemnly at his side noticing the lines in his father's face traced by grief. The man was in good health, but with the death of his dear wife he had not been the man he once was, and now with the death of his brother his father would be an easy target. Hiring an assassin would be not needed in this case. In this case it was only a matter of when and where. He planned to bribe on of the maids to drop a bit of poison in the king's goblet the old man slept and make it look like he died in his sleep overcome with the stress of battle and the loss of his youngest. Unable to help himself he smiled with his head bowed to hide it. Everything was going his way now. The only one who could of any weight in this was only an infant, a boy born by a village woman near their castle who was not legitimate. The woman named Eilan was greatly adored by his father and he planned on killing her and the brat once he is king of the land. The prince turned his thoughts from his little half-brother and to the larger fish to fry.

The Sythian beings who had once by legend been peaceful creatures, feeding on livestock were now humanities greatest enemy. Even now they encroached on the land like large bat winged monsters, swooping down when the sun goes down. They seemed fearful of the sun's rays and of fire. It was not enough; he would need to find a greater weapon against them. He hoped once he had the guardians under his sway he might discern this weapon. His fingers wrapped around the leather strap holding his sword in its sheath, stroking it lovingly with his forefinger as he watched the body of Robert burn away.

The king was laid to rest in the underground crypt that held every members of his bloodline through the generations. Finally the troubled mind, plagued with the unrest and sadness of the loss of his son would finally be joining him in death’s sweet release. Prince Damon dropping his façade of contrite grief pushing the date of his coronation before the body was even cold.  Taking up the throne he would pay little heed to the objections and rumors in response to him breaking old traditions.

The main hall was filled with people from nobles and gentries, to workers and peasants.  The flags of the former king remained fluttering in the breeze from the open doorway. Damon was pushing the boundaries by having his coronation now, but he wasn’t a fool. Formality had to be respected. Malvius Aleris, the protector of the sacred stone of wisdom, stood in a robe of dark gray with silver on the ends.  Pushing fifty-seven he would be performing the ceremony. The protectors of the Hall of Clothos of this generation chose insular solitude to study their protective crafts, only leaving their hall when Gothos needed their powers.  The protector of the stone of time was always by tradition the master of ceremonies. 

Damon was dressed in his finest armor of sculpted steel fitted against his lithe form. A fresh pressed crimson cape was pinned to his shoulders, falling down his back with his personal insignia of the prince, a jackal’s head. The prince had bathed and had his hair cut before the ceremony and stood in front of the throne.  His sword had been taken to the blacksmith the day before now clean and shone in the leather holster that was also cleaned and oiled. 

The whispers and murmured from the unorthodoxy of the day, and the rumors that the king came to his death under suspicious means were silenced when Malvius started the ceremony. On the nearby table he picked the chalice up and presented it to the prince.

“Damon, Prince of the Four Territories and son of the Bear; Do you swear fealty to the kingdom? To protect and care for the people who look up to you?”

“I swear in the name of the Great Builder, god of the land and of the sea. I will protect the people of the Northern Kingdom, and unite all peoples of Gothos” Damon replied repeating the words that his forefathers had said at their coronation. Taking the cup from Malvius he brought the cold goblet to his lips, the alcohol bitter to his lips. Returning it to the old man he straightened up and turned and looked out at the crowd. Malvius took the crown of entwined silver and iron, crimson rubies and placed it upon the new king’s head.

Captain Lucrus was standing along with his soldiers, the personal guard to the king called the Fangs by their enemies, an extension of the Gogothian Knights. A chill seeped into his bones at the sight of the crown on Damon’s head.  A part of him wanted to pack up his things and go off to the east and find his fortune. That thought was dismissed as quickly as it came to mind. His honor would not allow him to run off like a thief in the night. His father rose to the ranks of the Gogothian Knights that King Alther’s father Melos Kalanus had made him Captain of the guard. Since he was a lad, Lucrus has done everything in his power to follow in his father’s footsteps.  To leave would label him as a deserter and make him a criminal in the eyes of the kingdom.  If only he could find evidence that the King Alther was murdered at the hands of his only living son then he would feel peace of mind.

“Lords and ladies of Gothos. I present to you King Damon, Lord and protector of the Four Territories.” The protector of the stone of wisdom announced causing the crowd to erupt in cheers and applause.

The king’s forest was scouted by hunters the day before and the rivers were pouched. Roe deer was roasted on giant stone slates with onions, peppers, and rubbed with garlic. Water birds were de-feathered and coated in a sweet and sour sauce made of spices from the Hebric Trading Route the permeated in the air. Portabella mushrooms were roasted with chicken breasts with a current sauce.  Oysters were brought up from the Northern coast and laid out after being steamed, accompanied with a butter sauce.  The wine cellar was opened and barrels of red wine and mead were overflowing.  The king and honored guests were seated at the high board. A traveling band of minstrels found that good fortune smiled on their passing into the city when the coronation was hastily planned. The whole event was unusual, but with the libations going around and cheer in the air no one seemed to think twice about it.  The atmosphere was relaxed when the King called the captain to his side. Abandoning his drink and the company of a beautiful young lady at his side, a low born lady and walked around the table to where the king sat.

“Ah, Captain I need you to do something for me.” King Damon said with mirth in his rich voice. He seemed in a jovial mood that Lucrus thought for a moment that the rumors of patricide might be unfounded. That perhaps his dislike for the new emperor was misplaced. The king took a sip of his wine and placed his cup aside with ease. “I know this is a day of celebration but I have something important that needs to be done. It is imperative to protect the kingdom. “

“Then speak it, Your Highness and it will be done” Lucrus insisted, straightening up in his armor knowing that it was a joke among his men that he never took his armor off, even sleeping in it.

“Good man. I need you to go to the east side of the village and execute a traitor to the crown. Eilan Floki, a craven whore conspired to steal my crown and place her wailing bastard in my place. You will take a few of your men and execute her and her brat. Come back to me when you have it done.” He said with almost a venomous delight in his tone.

“Your highness…” Lucrus started to protest strongly, knowing who the woman is in the scheme of things being the eyes and ears of the former king. The doubts about his gut feeling evaporated like snow in an early spring. 

“I thought you were a loyal solider. You are my right arm and I expect you to do as you are told. Unless you want to displease me.” There was sharpness to his tone that would not allow further objection.  Lucrus had no choice but to give a bow to the king and leave the great hall. His stomach rolled with each step he took, knowing that he would be doing the one thing he felt the regime before would never fathom. Killing one’s own flesh and blood was absolutely inconceivable. This blatant disregard for life made the shadow of sureness stretch further over the darkened door. Walking with a heavy heart to the barracks he stood in the stone archway observing some of his soldiers coming from guard duty, the unfortunate that had been assigned instead of being allowed to enjoy the festivities. They came to attention when his presence was realized.  Curtis Hexus , one of his most loyal soldiers rose from where he had been sitting playing cards. An ambitious man whose wife had borne two sons that would someday be trained to be knights, and perhaps be in the king’s guard.  It was truly ambitious to preen and groom not just one son, but two for the high honor of a Golgothian Knight.

“Ah, c’mon Captain we don’t even gets to enjoy a drop of mead or enjoy the music from the party?” Eldger Boone complained, being a stocky man with a sour disposition known for his boozing and whoring when he wasn’t on his shift.

“This is the king’s direct order. We are to go to the home of Eilan Floki and execute her and her child under the crime of treason.” The words struck in his throat and his tongue felt like sand when he spoke these words. It was wrong and he knew it, but he had his orders to follow.  This caught mousy, Alder Fauts attention, climbing off his bed his face filled with tired confusion.

“I guess we have no choice.” His voice was resigned as he bent over and picked up his boots and started to pull them on.  The room was warmed by the roaring fireplace, but the orders had brought a chill that permeated in the air.  The horses were saddled and ready for use when they arrived at the stables. This was not surprising because all of the chargers were trained for battle and travel at a moment’s notice.  The three of men fell into silence as they led the horses out of the stables and out into the empty road. The revelry of the coronation had been contained to the taverns and private homes, and thankfully their presence would go unnoticed. The Green Horn Inn was filled with singing and drinking toasts to the health and happiness of the new king.  The lone road’s quiet lived up to its name sake as they approached the edge of the woods where Eilan Floki lived. The house was covered by a thatch roof with a single door. Smoke billowed from the chimney, the picture of tranquility before being dashed by a storm.  Slowing their horses they dismounted and approached, their armor along with the horses shuffling in their wake. Lucrus stepped up to the door and raised a gloved hand and knocked.

A fresh faced young woman opened the door wearing a faded green gown with a weather beaten apron over it. Her expression was warm and inviting, unaware of the danger.

“Captain, what brings you here on this joyful day? I heard of the coronation of the new king. You’re here with your men so come on in. I have fresh bread and some honey mead.” She told them and stepped aside.  The interior was a two room with a front room for the kitchen and dining area, and a bedroom in the back. A fire was roaring with a kettle and pot warming. A wooden cradle laid by the fire where her infant son slept peacefully.  Looking upon that innocent face caused an ache rise in the captain’s chest. Forcing himself to look away from the boy he knew was the brother of the king, the bastard.

“Eilan Floki, you are hereby charged with treason to the kingdom. I have no choice but to carry out the sentence. King Damon has decreed that you and your child are too executed without trial.” The words stuck in his throat like a piece of aged bread.  The color drained from Eilan’s face as the word sunk in. Shaking her head she stared at the captain, her eyes begging him that it is not so, that she misheard. Curtis reached for his sword and unsheathed it taking a step toward her. Eilan cowered as the other two started toward her.  Captain Lucrus turned from the sight of the frightened woman who begged for her life. Going to the cradle he looked once again down at the sleeping face. Reaching down he gather up the infant in the blanket and held him against his chest and exited the home. Walking toward the horses he could hear the deafening sound of Eilan screaming. Holding the child against his chest he felt the actual chill starting to set in. The child started to whimper awakening at the cried of his mother pressed against his steel armor.  Turning his back from the house he took his horse by the reins in his gloved hand and started into the forest. Carefully he remounted his horse and slowly walked it through the trees heading east.  Lucrus didn’t know what he would do with the crying infant in his arms. This child was the son of his best friend. The crime he committed lay heavy on his heart as he rode, blind to a destination.  The Great Builder must have been smiling upon him when he saw merchant’s cart filled with goods nestled in hay.  Dismounting from his mount he didn’t see the merchant just the attached donkey and cart.  He nestled the child in on his right arm, rocking it lightly as he came to the back of the cart. The merchant was carrying ceramic glazed pots and wares of bronze and copper. Carefully he placed the child among the goods and bundled him up warmly.

“Cabel, son of King Alther of the Four Territories, I leave you here into the wilds. As a bastard you have been born with a disadvantage. The king acknowledged you as his own, but he’s now dead.  You’re a threat to the crown. With that knowledge I give you a chance. Grow stone and survive. Follow the footsteps of your father and become a good man.” Straightening up he gave one last look at the child and returned to his horse to return to the palace. The sun had gone down by now and by now both the king and his guests would be drunk and getting ready for sleep. Adjourning to his room he removed his gloves and poured himself a strong drink. In the morning he will see the king and tell him that the deed was done.

The next morning Lucrus prepared exactly what he was going to say to his sovereign, knowing that every word would be a lie. His boots felt like they were made of lead as he walked down to the throne room. Seated upon the cold onyx black throne, King Damon observed his usurped kingdom. He pressed his back against the stone, enjoying the discomfort of the chainmail draped along his torso, grinding against the stone with a clink. Being the king he wore the silver plated chest piece with an eagle emblazed in gold behind a crimson background.  The young man grimaced at the feeling seeing it as a reminder of his place in the world and the vengeance he had the right to take upon those who might cross him. The stone of the throne was hard as he must be on those who got in his way. Leaning his elbows upon his knee he was also keenly aware of the saber at his side held in its molded leather scabbard. Damon felt that no weapon in the Four Territories or distant islands could match the cold steel in battle, so like him.

“Captain, I see you have returned. I hope its good news” He said in a voice of confidence his head tilted up looking at stain glass window not looking at the older man.

“Yes, you’re Royal Highness. The deed was done without a hitch.” The Captain of the Guard replied in a dry tone of voice, unable to mask his pure distain for situation he had been put in by the new king. Captain Lucrus felt it that the new king’s sudden rise to power was no accident. If he could kill a woman and a child of his own blood he had no doubts about the death of good King Alther.  He didn’t have evidence of this of course, but knew he must make inquiries very carefully or meet the axe of the executioner. Lucrus had respected the former king after being liberated from a Fantus prison when the nomadic tribes were banded under the wild queen, Maura the Blood Sheera.  The king had brought down eighty archers and horsemen into Dragon’s Ridge, surprising the queen and her nomadic raiders. The dust finally settled after the fourth day leaving a battlefield of carnage. The queen’s men and women of the nomads were brutal and savage, but the king’s men were well trained and came out the victor. Maura, instead of letting her be captured drank wormwood poison.

King Alther on his large black charger, Megero moved in front the slaves that were lined up by the knights.  Lucrus was kneeling among his fellows smeared in dirt and bleeding from the corner of his mouth. His chest was bear with scars old and new from the neck down to his waist like a road map over his flesh. He looked up at the king with an expression of defiance unsure if he would be enslaved by another soulless regime.

“Do you know who I am?” The shining sovereign asked in a calm tone of voice, stopping in front of the dirty man catching the look he was getting. It intrigued him.

“You’re King Alther, of the Four Territories. You are the legacy of the Great Bear.” He replied in a croaked voice, light blue eyes squinting as the sun glinted off his armor. On his knees he shifted causing the shackles around his wrist to clang. The older man gave a small nod of his head.

“I can see in your eyes that you have not let your shackles drag you down. I have come to liberate those taken by the crazed harlot queen. I give you your freedom, but give you an opportunity to become one of my knights.”

The offer surprised Lucrus greatly but he gave a small chuckle. “I was born a slave. My mother and father were of the Wooded Place enslaved by that queen. I have spent my life trying to carve a place in the world. You are offering me an honorable place among your chosen. How so you know I am not going to kill you in your sleep and take off with your best whore and gold?” he asked boldly. A silence fell over the soldiers until the king started to laugh till his whole body shook. The others joined in uncertainly.

“That is the spirit I’m counting on. You serve me well and you will hurt for nothing. You will have to go through training, but if you can survive it then you will rewarded. You can go off into obscurity into the east you are now a freed man, but I think you are worth more than that.”

“How could I say no to such an offer?” He asked calmly and raised his shackled wrists up. The two men stared each other down until the king unsheathed his sword and brought it down on the chains between the iron shackles.

 Not only did the king free him from slavery, but had him taken into the fold of the knighthood to be trained. After five years of hard training he proved his worth in a tournament on May Day winning the highest honor of the land. Lucrus was put in the seat of captain despite the objections from those born in the Golgothian knighthood. The long years to come he protected the king from his enemies and gained to admiration from the men in the guardship.  Now the king he had come to love as a brother and serve as his sovereign was dead at the hands of his own son. It left a bitter taste in his mouth as he looked upon the smug young man sitting on the throne smiling at him.

“Very good, Captain. You have proved your loyalty to me enacting my first order. I will keep that in mind in the future” he said easily, dismissing him. The knight wanted to tell the king that he didn’t think it was right what they were sent to do, but he knew what would happen. It was a coward’s choice to hold his tongue that he would accept to survive. The beaten and defeated man who once won his sword was now a weary man wondering what he was doing with his life.

Underground of Crags Arch: Western Territory

The Council of Five has been convening for seven days since the king of humans had died. The Sythians, the eldest and most noble race were driven to the brink of going underground with his crusade to wipe them out. His knights, the Golgothians have been taking up arms against them since the vow was broken between their sovereign King Fabian and the human sovereign, King Ursa. Two of them were there at that dinner party that changed the fate of their people forever.

A great feast was held in the Hall of Uriseas in the great city. King Fabian a handsome man of three-hundred years sat next to his best friend the human sovereign. He was tall and imposing, in his silver and aquamarine armor with the symbol of a trident on his armor. The Sythians were once fishermen and harvesters of the fruits on the trees. It was when the Shadow People came down from the mountains to raid and pillage that the great priest of Sarena, goddess of the earth and of the underworld, went to the sacred river and prayed for their people to be saved. The goddess heard their prayers the moment when things looked the worst. Serena gave a double ended blessing; they would be given immortality and the abilities to destroy their enemies, but they are also cursed with blood lust. King Fabian had seen the tide turn in the battle, but the cost was disheartening. It took centuries to find peace with the human race that they were taken away from by fate.

King Fabian sat upon the high throne next to King Ursa  as dinner was served. There was mirth and joyful sounds as mugs were slammed down upon the table as bawdy talk went around the High Table. Broiled fish seasoned with crushed garlic, barley, and lemon. Wild Elk was caught and trussed up with roasted vegetables and saffron. For the Sythians , roe deer was sliced open  on a table next to the High table. The blood was served in wooden goblets before it congealed . Wine and sweet mead was poured for the human guests. Goblets never were empty.

As dinner was about to be served King Ursa rose from his seat and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder and moved behind his seat slowly falling into shadows, the fire playing off his features. Fabian briefly looked over his shoulder, bringing his goblet to his lips, shoulders moving with amusement at a joke one of his compatriots made. The smile was still on his lips when the wood suddenly splintered from the middle of his chair, the glistening of a sword came through coated in blood and through Fabian’s chest. The metal had shattered on the sides, metal pieces caught in his heart. The dawning realization hit the tab