CHAPTER 18

Though the group didn't know it, their vanished comrades weren't far off. The moment they knew they were safe from the skeletons the pair dove into the dark cover of the trees. Their path led them toward the hills along the southern end of the valley. Lord Sturgeon knew where their destination lay, but Percy had been tugged away from the others by his father.

"Is it wise to leave them, Father?" he asked his parent. They stumbled through the dark with only the cloudy night sky to guide them. "What if we meet with more of the undead?"

Sturgeon chuckled between wheezes; he wasn't accustomed to the exercise. "No harm will come to us, my son. He will be sure of that."

"No harm? We were nearly killed back there," Percy protested. "The only one who saved us was that boy."

Sturgeon smirked and shook his head. "I'm sure he would have intervened before long. Our deaths were not part of the plan."

"What plan, Father? Where are we going?"

"A little patience is worth more than all the gold in Tramadore's treasury, which may yet be our reward if we play our cards right," Sturgeon scolded. The pair clamored over rocks and through thickets, and after a grueling hour they reached the foothills of the mountains. The slope was steep, too steep to climb, and Sturgeon was irked by the apparent dead-end. "I'm sure he spoke of a trail along here..." the lord murmured.

Bidden by his words, a trail of round stone steps rose up from the earth of the mountain and created a stairway. The steps wound their way up to a flat area two hundred feet above where they stood. Beside each step appeared a small flame that floated in the air, allowing them to watch their step. Percy looked apprehensively to his father, who scowled at the steps. The lord ascended the stairs with his son behind him, and in a few minutes they peeked over the edge of the flat area.

It was a round steppe laid completely bare to the elements. A small fire lay at the far back against the mountain, and a figure in a white cloak with a hood sat facing them on the opposite side of the fire. The stranger's head was turned down so they couldn't see their face. In the firelight Percy noticed his father hesitate, but start forward with apprehensive steps. They stopped in front of the fire opposite the bent figure.

"I've seen your proof of power, and accept your offer. What must I do?" he asked the stranger.

The figure raised a pale, wrinkled hand and in their palm was a bright, blackened ring wrought from a dark stone. Their voice floated out from beneath the hood like a whisper on the wind filled with warnings of a storm brewing just over the horizon. The hairs on the back of Percy's neck raised. "Wear this and the army will be yours," the figure promised. Sturgeon slunk over to him and snatched the ring from his finger. The figure chuckled. "May your luck be as firm as your courage."

"Don't insult me, old man, or I may see to it that you don't see another night," Sturgeon shot back.

The figure raised their head high enough to reveal a single sky-blue eye. The eye rolled between Percy and Sturgeon, and the elder lord stumbled back. The depths of that eye showed a cold, merciless character. Someone you would meet and wish you would forget, but couldn't. "Threaten me again and I will show you an eternity of nightmares," the stranger whispered.

"M-my apologies," Sturgeon stuttered. The figure settled back into their relaxed position, and Sturgeon took hold of his son's arm. "Let's come away," he whispered to Percy.

Percy reluctantly followed. His curiosity was stronger than his fear and he wished to know more about this figure. Sturgeon hurried the boy down the stairs, and when the last of their feet touched earth at the bottom the stones, and their lights, disappeared. They were left in darkness but for the ring Sturgeon held. That gave off an eerie, dark glow, like a smoldering piece of coal in the middle of an otherwise dead fire.

Sturgeon held it between them and Percy looked with wide eyes on the stone. His eyes flitted up to the lord's face. "Father, what have you done?"

Sturgeon chuckled and slipped the ring over his finger; it was a perfect fit. "With this ring I have ensured our future. Come with me and I will show you."

The lord led his son back down to the valley path. Rather than follow the trail out of the wilderness Sturgeon turned in the direction of the horrors. Percy followed, and in good time they reached the edge of the scarred battlefield. The skeletons roamed the area, aimless and disoriented. Their prey was gone and they knew not where to go nor what to do.

Sturgeon stretched out his ringed hand toward the army. "You see that without a strong hand they cannot leave this graveyard. I will give them that strong hand." He held up the ring toward them, and the light brightened and pulsed. The creatures stopped and their red eyes looked to the humans. Percy stumbled back, fearful they would attack and devour them, but the light from the ring distorted and stretched into long tendrils. The tendrils thinned, broke apart into more of themselves, and wound their way into the undead army. Each tendril wrapped around a skeleton, and the undead turned to mist that was consumed by the tendril until every skeleton was gone. The tendrils retreated back into the ring and Sturgeon cradled the trinket against his chest. "You see, Percy? This will be our army to man the gates of Tramadore, and I will set myself on the throne that you will in time rule," Sturgeon told his son. He chuckled. "The boy was a reliable bellwether for change when he sat in that chair, but he won't be the one to bring it about. Our family will be the ones to lead the change, starting with Tramadore."

"But what is the price?" Percy asked him.

Sturgeon chuckled. "Obedience, but we'll bide our time on that." He held up the ring and from the ring sprang two undead horses. "For now we have a city to conquer."

The main group hiked their way through the valley. The darkness and Fred's stretcher slowed them down, and without horses the going was harder. The two-day journey became five, and that was facilitated only with lack of sleep and food. Their predicament was made easier by Ruth's gliding practice as she helped the others find food by scouting the area along the creek bed. Ruth couldn't convince anyone to be carried, but she practiced hauling things by gliding some of the supplies over the rougher parts of the trail. Ned and Pat were thankful for the help, but the soldiers stilled grumbled about the demoness.

At the end of those long five days they stumbled out of the valley and breathed a sigh of relief as they glimpsed Galaron below them. Ned had a grave face and looked back over his shoulder. Pat noticed his concerned expression. "What is it?" she asked him.

"It's what it isn't. The valley is quiet, and I see no movement around the crag," he replied.

"Then deem ourselves fortunate and let's be off," the guard leader snapped.

"Fortunate is all about circumstances, and our circumstances are very grave," Ned countered.

Ned obliged the guards by pushing on, and by the middle of the fifth day they straggled down onto the plain. Hawkins stood at the gate and saw their coming from afar. He gathered a few horses and mounted his own with a few trusted men, and they met the weary travelers on the road a few miles from the city. Hawkins saw that there were fewer of them than there should have been, and they were all worn and tired. "What's happened?" Hawkins asked them.

"Something terrible, but we must report it to the king as soon as possible," Ned replied.

The group was given the fresh horses and led through the city. The guards they left to be mended by their fellow soldiers, but Ruth, transformed into a human, noticed they looked at her out of the corner of their eyes. Their stares weren't friendly. The others hurried to the castle. Martley greeted them at the gate, and her face paled when she saw Fred limp in Ned's arms. She hurried over and set her hands on Ned's horse. "Is he hurt? Where are the others?"

Ned carefully dismounted with Fred, and turned to his companions. "Pat, take Fred to my room and watch over him," he commanded her. She gave a nod, and with help from the guards they carried the boy upstairs to Ned's room.

Martley watched them leave, and once out of sight she looked back to the old castor. "I will show you to the king."

Ned pursed his lips together, but merely nodded and allowed her to lead Hawkins and him to King Stephen. The king awaited them in the throne room with open arms, but they faltered when he saw it was only Ned and there was no sign of his father. "What's the meaning of this? Where is Cousin Michael and my father?" he angrily asked Ned.

"Dead, and still dead," Ned hastily replied. "But your foolish priest has managed to raise your father's fallen army, and they destroyed most of the pitiful guards you sent with us."

King Stephen stumbled back as though struck by a hand. He slowly shook his head and his words came out in a hoarse whisper. "No, it cannot be so. You must be lying!" His eyebrows crashed down and he flew at Ned. He grabbed the calm castor by the scruff of his cloak and shook him. "Why do you lie to me? What purpose do you have in lying to me? Do you work some mischief against the Priests of Phaeton?"

"Mischief has been worked here, and by the priests," Ned calmly replied. "The book Cousin Michael possessed was too powerful for him to master, and he called forth the wrong dead. He spoke a few words at the end of the spell that tells you who is to blame. Deus adiuva me." The king frowned. Hawkins noticed Martley start, but said nothing.

"I-I don't understand. What does this mean?" King Stephen demanded to know.

Ned straightened and angry brushed off Stephen's hands. "That doesn't sound familiar to you, Your Highness? You who announce yourself an enemy of Canavar and yet you don't even know his words?"

"What words are these? What do they mean?" Hawkins spoke up. The words were unfamiliar to him.

Ned half turned to the guardsman. "Deus adiuva me. Those are the words bound to every spell created by Canavar," he explained to him. "Cousin Michael spoke those words at the end of his spell, and revived the undead. He paid for his mistake with his life, but we can avert the same disaster for Galaron." He swung around and stood tall before the confused and cowering monarch. "Your Highness, you must gather an army and lead them against your own dead."

"T-this must be impossible. What you say isn't possible," Stephen mumbled. The king saw that the three before him looked at him with disgust, and he gathered his wits. He calmly retreated and sat on his throne. "I will not believe the words of a castor. Show me proof of what happened, and I will followed your request."

Ned narrowed his eyes. "The words of your own men can attest to that. Three survived of the twenty you gave us," Ned told him. He turned to Hawkins. "Will you please fetch-"

"Sire!" The closed doors of the throne room flung open and a member of the castle guards stumbled into their presence. He ran down the carpeted floor and knelt down before the king. "Your Highness, a message from Tramadore. They have been attacked, and are pleading for assistance!"

King Stephen jumped up and his eyes widened. "What? Where is the messenger? Let him speak with us!"

A figure slipped into the room and hurried toward them. Ned raised an eyebrow when he recognized Percy Clavier. The young man knelt before the throne, crossed an arm over his chest, and bent his head. "I apologize for being the bearer of bad news, but your guard speaks the truth. My father, Lord Sturgeon, attacked Tramadore two days ago and I rode as swiftly as I could to deliver the message of help to you. Tramadore needs a friend, and you are her greatest friend."

King Stephen's mouth flapped open; he glanced helplessly between the man at his feet and his advisers. "What is this? What dark sorcery has come to the land?"

"Dark sorcery is indeed at play, Your Highness," Percy replied. He raised his troubled eyes to the king. "My father controls an army of the dead from the Valley of the King. Through them is how he took control of the city and castle."

Martley stepped forward and crossed her arms over her ample chest. She raised an eyebrow as she looked on the young man. "And why do you come to us for help? Why are you not at your father's side and rejoicing in his victory?"

Percy glared at her. "I am not a traitor, my lady. My loyalty is to Lord Tramadore, who is even now a prisoner inside his own castle."

Hawkins stepped forward and unsheathed his sword. He pointed the blade at Percy's head. "How are we to believe you? What proof do you bring to us that your aren't a false witness?"

Hawkins' blade cracked, and the point fell harmlessly to the ground. On the floor beneath it lay a metal dart. Hawkins followed the direction and started back. The others followed his gaze and looked upon a darkly cloaked figure. Percy stood up and frowned at the guardsman. "This is my father's former assassin, Deadly Sins. He agreed to follow and protect me."

"Deadly Sins..." Hawkins whispered in awe. His face hardened. "What would make a hired murder change allegiances?" The cloaked man didn't reply.

"One moment! One moment!" King Stephen cried out as he held his arms over his head. He stomped down off his high throne and stood among the group, whipping his head from one to the other. "What is this all about?" He turned to Percy. "Did your father and you not go with the others to the Valley of the King?"

Percy bowed his head. "We went there, Your Highness, and witnessed the black priest raise an army of the undead from your own soldiers. I believe it was my father's intent to see the display, for after we were saved by the boy he was given command of the army by a figure in white."

Ned shot forward and grabbed Percy by the collar too fast for the young man to avoid his grasp. The old man's voice was strained, like a tree bent and ready to snap free or break. "A figure in white? What did he look like?" Percy pulled at Ned's hands, but the old castor roughly shook him. "What did he look like?"

In another moment Deadly Sins was between them, and he pulled Ned off the young man. Hawkins caught Ned, and the old castor steadied himself while Percy pulled at his collar and coughed. "I didn't see his face nor catch his name, but he gave my father a ring of stone. With that ring my father took possession of the army and the rest is as you know. He captured the city and imprisoned Tramadore."

"What of the defenders? Were there no guards?" Hawkins asked him.

Percy gave a nod. "A few men of the army escaped and some joined my father, but most were slaughtered or taken captive. Those that escaped are encamped on the plains. My father intends to solidify his hold on the city and destroy them before marching on the rest of Ralcott. He won't stop at the borders for I believe his intention is to take Galaron and all the world if he can," Percy replied.

Ned turned to the king. "What now, Your Highness? Will you offer your services to Tramadore in her hour of need?"

King Stephen nodded his head. "Y-yes, of course we will help our old ally. Hawkins, assemble several legions and make ready to march this day."

Hawkins bowed his head. "Shall I inform Lady Lamikan of the commands?" he asked his king.

Stephen furrowed his brow and finally shook his head. "No, I will have her remain here with the guard to protect the city. We don't know whether trouble will arise while you're gone."

All in attendance were surprised by the King's order. Ned raised an eyebrow. "You don't believe it's necessary for your Captain to command your army?"

"She is captain of the guards, and as such she will remain with those who protect the castle and the city," King Stephen snapped. He whipped his head over to Hawkins. "Now get the men ready. Take all the war horses if you must."

Hawkins hurried from the room and Percy made to leave. "I must return to Tramadore and see how I can help Captain Spalding. I will watch the west for your coming." He bowed and left with the assassin.

Martley turned to the king. "Your Highness, perhaps more men should be given in aid to Tramadore, and Lady Lamikan should be at the front leading her men."

"My men," King Stephen corrected her. "And my word is final. Tramadore will be given a few legions and no more. If they fail we will need all the protection we can spare to protect Galaron from this undead army."

"A few legions may not be enough to counteract Sturgeon's army," Ned spoke up.

"It will have to be for I won't give them any more," the king insisted. His head whipped between the two. "That is my final word on the subject, and should Lady Lamikan object tell her I will abide no disobedience from my officers."

Ned frowned but bowed his head. "Very well, Your Highness. I will inform Lady Lamikan of your decision." He made for the door and was intrigued when Martley followed. When they stepped out into the entrance hall and the throne room doors closed behind them, he looked her over. "Is there something I can do for you, Lady Martley?"

He noticed her clasped hands shook against her stomach. "I'm concerned about the boy your brought back. Is his injury serious?"

"It may be, but no spell can cure a weakened soul," he replied.

Her face paled. "He used a great deal of his magic?" Ned gave a nod. "I see. Then only time will allow him to heal. I will pray for him." She turned to leave him, but Ned wasn't done.

"Speaking of time, how is your wound?" Ned asked her.

Martley turned to him with a puzzled expression on her face. "My wound?"

"Pardon my intrusion, but you move rather stiffly. I thought perhaps you had injured yourself," Ned told her. His eyes trailed down her body to her left side. "I have some ability in treating wound, perhaps you would like my assistance?"

Martley smiled sweetly at him and curtsied. "I see nothing escapes your careful eyes, Sir Edwin. My injury will heal in its own time, but I ask that you take better care of the young boy on your next adventure. I believe we would both be distraught if another boy were to die on your watch."

Ned flinched back at the insult and the woman parted from his company.