Chapter 5 - Castle Bastion
Year of the Councils 962
“This is as far as I can take you,” said Targath. Wooded hills rose up ahead, marking the edge of the Old Mire. “Castle Bastion lies five miles to the west.”
“Thank you, my friend,” said Liam. “I hope we meet again in happier times.”
Targath shook his head, his silvery hair gleaming in the moonlight. “I fear we will not meet again. Not in this world, at any rate. I wish you well, Sir Liam Mastere. May all the blessings of all the gods go with you. You will certainly need them.” Targath turned and vanished back into the swirling mists of the Old Mire.
Liam put spurs to his horse and snapped the reins. He galloped for the west, clods of earth flying beneath his mount’s hooves. He found a path leading through the wooded hills and followed it. The night sky began to brighten, the wind whistling through the trees.
But it was still too early for dawn.
Liam reined up, squinting into the gloom. He smelled smoke on the air. Had he come too late?
He rubbed the horse’s mane. “Just a bit farther.” Only a mile and a half lay between him and Castle Bastion. He put the horse to a quick trot. The woods thinned and vanished, changing to grassy hills. The smell of smoke grew stronger, and a faint red glow illuminated the sky ahead. A fire, then, and a large one, and his alarm grew. He tried to coax a bit more speed from his exhausted mount.
At last Liam rounded a hill and reined up.
The sight that greeted him made him freeze for a moment.
“Gods,” he mumbled at last. “Gods, no.”
Castle Bastion sat on a broad hill, its towers and turrets outlined against the pale sky. Smoke billowed from the windows, and raging flames danced within its courtyard. Its massive outer curtain wall had been blasted to heaps of broken rubble. Even from this distance, Liam smelled the stink of burning flesh.
The High Kingdoms and the Wizards had planned to strike at Marugon, but Marugon had struck first.
Liam spurred his horse, and the weary charger stumbled up the road to the castle. Liam could ask no more of the exhausted animal. He slid from the saddle and ran forward, his armor clattering.
The castle’s gates lay in ruins. Bodies in the armor and tabards of the Council Guard, the Wizards’ defenders, lay strewn about the rubble. Liam looked over the corpses as he picked his way through the debris. Bullets had killed the guards, reducing their armor to metal shreds, and bullet holes riddled the stones of the wall. Marugon’s soldiers must have used the lead-spraying machine guns, the guns they called Kalashnikovs, the dreadful weapons that had annihilated the army of Narramore.
An explosion shook the castle, stone falling from the damaged towers and crashing against the pavement of the courtyard. Liam reeled and grabbed at the broken wall for support. He heard screams ringing from inside the keep, and he drew his Sacred Blades. The swords flash with blue fire, and he felt a thrum of power from the weapons. Creatures of black magic were near. He ran towards the doors of the keep, swords in hand.
It seemed the battle was not over yet.
He dashed through the keep’s open doors and entered a long hall with a vaulted ceiling. The only light came from the occasional torch in a wall sconce. The corpses of Wizards in white robes lay strewn along the floor, their blood staining the stone. Another explosion rang out, followed by a deep-throated howl of fury. Liam hurried forward, his boots clicking against the polished stone floor. He turned another corner and stopped.
A huge figure in sooty black armor stood at the base of a broad marble staircase, massive leathery wings resting on its back. Burning red eyes watched the corridor, stark against its pale face, and yellowed fangs curled down from its mouth. A gleaming Kalashnikov rested its hands. It was a winged demon from the hills of the Wastes. Even a Wizard would find a winged demon a deadly foe. If Marugon had made an alliance with the winged demons, had given them guns...
His Sacred Blades thrummed in his hands. The winged demon growled and looked his way.
Liam bellowed a battle cry and leaped forward, swords raised. The winged demon flinched and raised its weapon. Liam dodged to the side as the demon fired. The spray of bullets ripped through his cloak and shoulder plates, but missed his flesh. Liam swung his right-hand sword in a wide slash, the blade shearing through the Kalashnikov’s barrel. The winged demon roared and swung the ruined gun like a club. Liam parried with his left-hand sword and stabbed with his remaining weapon. The Sacred Blade slashed down the winged demon’s arm, chewed through its armor, and sank into its pale flesh. The creature roared and jumped back, drawing a black scimitar from its belt. Liam raced up the stairs after it. The demon’s wings unfurled and it took to the air, wings flapping. Liam whirled, trying to keep his eyes on the beast as it flew in an intricate pattern beneath the vaulted ceiling.
The winged demon wheeled and plunged down like a thunderbolt, scimitar point leading. Liam leapt to the side, and the demon landed with a crash, scimitar sweeping for Liam’s head. He parried, sparks shooting from the locked blades.
The demon flapped its wings, and its right wing caught Liam in the face. The old Knight stumbled, his back smacking into the wall. The demon roared in victory and brought its scimitar down in a two-handed chop. Liam growled, parried with his left sword, and stabbed with his right. The blade slid through a gap in the winged demon’s armor and plunged deep into its belly. The demon shrieked as blue fires burst from the Sacred Blade and seared through its flesh.
The winged demon shuddered and collapsed in a spray of ash and obsidian bones.
Liam sprinted up the stairs, cursing his armor. It had been forged by the finest smiths of Carlisan, but it was useless against bullets. Another explosion shook the damaged castle, dust falling from the ceiling. His breath burned in his throat.
He burst onto a high balcony overlooking a broad inner courtyard and stopped.
A cluster of forty people stood huddled against the far wall. Liam saw a thin young man holding a dirty girl of about eight or nine, a weeping woman in a rough dress, and dozens of others, all terrified or injured. They looked like peasants or the servants of the castle. The remnants of the Council Guard stood around them in a ring, their pikes extended. Before them all stood a grim-faced old man in a white robe, wild white hair framing his dark eyes and craggy face. Liam recognized Alastarius, mighty Master of the Order of the White Council. The old Wizard held his hands out, his face trembling with effort. A faint sphere of shimmering white light surrounded him and the others.
A man cloaked in black robes stepped out from under an arch.
Lord Marugon himself had come.
Marugon stopped thirty feet from Alastarius. A dozen winged demons with Kalashnikovs and black scimitars accompanied him. A huge winged demon with a crown of red gold stopped at Marugon’s right hand. Liam had last seen that creature during the campaign against the Black Council. It was murderous and cunning Goth-Mar-Dan, king of the winged demons.
“Alastarius, my old friend!” Marugon’s sonorous voice rang out. “Your struggle has come to naught. Surrender yourself. It will go easier.”
Alastarius’s face darkened. “No. I will not give those in my care to your black mercies. I know your heart now.” His deep voice cracked like thunder. “I had thought better of you. I had thought you could change what you were. But I was wrong.”
Marugon laughed. “You cannot maintain that spell of protection forever. Your strength will fail soon, old man. What will you do then?” Liam could not see Marugon’s face, but he heard the Warlock’s smile. “The other Wizards are dead. You are the only one left. The last of the Wizards and the last of the Warlocks, together in this ruin. Ironic, no?”
“You have brought ruin to our world, Marugon!” said Alastarius. “The guns and the other machines will do naught but destroy. What shall you do, then? Rule over corpses and ashes?”
Marugon stepped forward. He looked like a cloaked and hooded shadow. “This is not
about conquest, old fool. I thought you knew that by now. It is not even about revenge. It is about destruction. It is about power and entropy.” He laughed, and Goth-Mar-Dan emitted a rumbling chuckle.
Liam’s mind raced. He could not find a way down to the courtyard. Even if he could, there were too many winged demons. He could fight two, even three, but not against a dozen.
And not against their mighty king.
“You have claimed victory today, dark one,” said Alastarius. “But tomorrow will turn against you.” The old Wizard drew himself up. His eyes blazed like twin stars. “Hear me! I Prophesy, Marugon! You shall fall, one day. There is a last hope that even you cannot extinguish. And it is Lithon Scepteris, the son of the King, who will bring about your downfall.” His voice rang like thunder, the words echoing over and over in Liam’s mind.
The old Wizard had the gift of Prophecy. His predictions came true. If he said that Lithon would overthrow Marugon…
Marugon’s voice dripped scorn. “Lithon Scepteris? The son of the King of Carlisan? He is a three years old, yes?”
Alastarius looked up, and Liam felt a shock as the Wizard looked right into his eyes. “Lithon will be kept safe, Lord of the Warlocks. He must be.” Liam stiffened. His old friend had just spoken to him, and laid this charge upon him. “And one day he will overthrow you.”
“I think not,” said Marugon. “It is you who are overthrown, old fool. The White Council is destroyed. There is nothing that can save the High Kingdoms. I shall march to Carlisan, and I shall kill every last man, woman, and child.” Marugon’s lips pulled back in a snarl. “Lithon included…”
Alastarius yelled, gesturing in a spell, and the white sphere dissipated. “Run!”
The cowering women and children sprinted for the doorways as the winged demons leveled their Kalashnikovs and opened fire. Liam yelled in fury as blood spattered over the pavement and bodies fell to the earth. The thin young man with the sobbing girl dashed through a doorway. Alastarius shouted a word and thrust his palm at Marugon. Blazing white light, so bright Liam had to look away, burst around the Warlock.
The light dimmed and faded in a swirl of shadow. Marugon stood untouched. “So you think to contest your powers against mine, old man? You know it is futile. You know what I am. You know what you tried to make me. Now you shall pay for your failure.” He yelled a word and traced a circle in the air. An icy chill filled the courtyard, and Alastarius staggered back. Shadows fell over him, a keening shriek filling the air, and frost formed on the ground around the old Wizard. Alastarius growled and waved his hands. The shadow vanished, and light blazed around Marugon.
Liam watched in awe and horror as the Warlock and the Wizard battled. Light and shadow flashed, and thunder rumbled over the courtyard as ghastly specters formed and faded in the air. Alastarius’s eyes blazed like stars, while Marugon’s seemed like pits into eternal nothingness. The Council Guards stood behind the old Wizard, their pikes clutched tight, their faces slack with awe.
The winged demons watched, cradling their guns.
Liam frowned. Why hadn’t the demons shot down the Guards?
Marugon crossed his fists, black lightning crackling up his arms. “Rembiar! Now!”
A scar-faced Council Guard in the tabard of a captain leapt forward and stabbed his pike.
“No!” Liam screamed.
The pike plunged into Alastarius’s back. The old Wizard twisted in pain, his fingers clutching at the air. The other Council Guards howled in fury and turned on the captain, but the winged demons opened fire, and the Council Guards fell in a spray of blood and flame. The traitor thrust his pike again, and Alastarius staggered, blood soaking his white robes. Marugon made a chopping gesture. Alastarius screamed and crumpled, a web of shadows pinning him to the ground.
The scar-faced Guard captain tossed aside his pike and swaggered to Marugon’s side. “My lord Marugon. It is good to see you again.”
“Well done, Rembiar,” said Marugon. Alastarius groaned in agony. “Well done, indeed, my friend. We shall discuss your reward later.” Marugon turned to Goth-Mar-Dan as Alastarius trembled, his blood spilling across the pavement. “Goth-Mar-Dan, my friend. This old fool has caused us much grief. Repay him.”
Goth-Mar-Dan chuckled and took to the air, his great wings beating. He landed besides Alastarius.
“Marugon!” said Alastarius, his voice strained. “I Prophesy once more!”
Marugon raised a hand, and Goth-Mar-Dan froze. “Oh?”
“I shall return.” Alastarius’s voice trembled, blood dripping into his white beard. “This is not over. The cycle of fate shall turn. The last hope will remain. The son of the King shall bring me back, and we will undo everything you have done…”
Marugon growled.
Goth-Mar-Dan’s clawed hand shot down and plunged into Alastarius’s chest, ripping flesh and cracking bone, and the old Wizard howled. The winged demon ripped out Alastarius’s heart and held it high. His deep-throated howl of triumph echoed over the courtyard. Goth-Mar-Dan devoured the heart in three bites, the blood smearing across his pale face.
“Spread out through the castle!” said Marugon, his voice triumphant. “Kill everyone and everything you find, but return to the gates in one hour. We march on Carlisan!” The winged demons threw back their heads and roared. Liam stared Alastarius’s crumpled corpse, rage burning through him. His Sacred Blades trembled in his hands. He would stalk through the castle and hunt down those winged demons one by one. He would cut out Goth-Mar-Dan’s black heart. And he would strike down Marugon…
Liam closed his eyes and stepped back into the shadows of the corridor. “No.” If mighty Alastarius could not prevail against Marugon and Goth-Mar-Dan, what could Liam do? “No. I must go to Carlisan. I must warn them of what comes.”
But without the Wizards, how could Carlisan and the other High Kingdoms hope to defeat the power of Marugon’s guns? Dread roiled in Liam’s heart. He shuddered to think what Marugon and Goth-Mar-Dan’s winged demons would do to the High Kingdoms.
He sprinted down the stairwell and ran for the gates, his breath rasping in his throat. Alastarius’s last words played in his mind. The old Wizard had Prophesied that Lithon would one day defeat Marugon. Liam had to find Lithon and keep him safe.
Liam managed to avoid the winged demons and dashed through Castle Bastion’s ruined gates. He found his horse and rode with as much speed as he could coax from the tired mount. Tears streamed down his bearded cheeks. He scrubbed them away and focused on the road.
He had to reach Carlisan before Marugon.
And he had to find Prince Lithon Scepteris before Marugon did.
***