The Ring Bearer

Chapter 3

He lay in the mud-filled gorge, broken and bruised beyond recognition, long after they had left. His face was bloodied and one of his eyes was already swollen shut, as he lay shivering in the sludge with a downpour of rain pelting him from above. The water did nothing to wash away the blood which gushed from multiple cuts on his face and his broken nose too streamed with the crimson liquid of life. He spat out a combination of dirt and blood and groaned out in anguish. His body screamed in agony and he felt as though he would rather be dead at that moment in time; the pain was so excruciating, but the sting of the betrayal was that much worse.

Jacob had deceived him. He had never had any intention of helping him find his old teacher, Woodenbrooke Whitbane. It had all be an elaborate setup. The king was dying and Jacob obviously seized the opportunity to rid himself of the next in line to the throne. But how far back did the treachery go? Was Jacob also responsible for the king's current state, or was it purely a lucky coincidence which he capitalized on. It all seemed too well orchestrated to be a coincidence though. The throne was under attack and there seemed to be many cogs in the work.

Felix rolled over onto his right side, trying to catch a glimpse of his personal bodyguard who lay a short distance away, but there was still no movement to show that there was life in him, instead, he lay sprawled out in the earth and the strong heart in his chest had stopped beating.

The prince tried to sit up, but his body would not allow him. His ribs were broken and his battered body ached more than ever before. There was a time when he had felt almost as much pain, but that was a long time ago. It was eleven years back, and the first outride which he had been on as a young man. He was sixteen then and it was midsummer.

All that day he had been like a giddy young child, although he knew he had to present himself as a level-headed young prince who knew the severity of this journey. A Catoblepas, a creature, from the Melior region had made its way through the Neutral region and found itself in Portum. 

It was stripped grey and brown, with a body much like a large bull, with a face devoid of skin and instead, there was a bare skull emitting a terrible green gassy poison from its nostrils which, if inhaled was fatal to others. Its eyes were purple and they sat buried in a mane of graying black wool-like fur. Its head, due to the weight of its four giant horns constantly hung low and it stared up menacingly at who or whatever crossed its path. It ate plants, but would not shy away from fighting and killing other animals and this was the reason for the hunt, on which Felix had been allowed to join; the beast had been killing the livestock of local farmers.

They had ridden out in the hot late afternoon sun, when the beast would be resting and less active, than in the early hours of the morning. His father, Sir Mosshelm, and even Jacob were part of the hunting party that tracked the beast through a local farmer's land. It had torn a hole through one of the fences and was grazing on the sweet grass, under a large tree, in the fields not far off.

Jacob and the prince were instructed to remain back and observe from a safe distance, whilst The Butcher and the king got down from their horses and moved up with the rest of the hunting party following closely behind. Together, the king and John Mosshelm stalked the animal and once in range the king had thrown a spear, with tremendous power, but which had barely penetrated the beast's tough hide. In turn, the Catoblepas, let out a spine chilling bellow that was accompanied by a spurt of that foul green gas which Felix had been told of; it threw its massive head in their direction and immediately began to charge at them.

Felix recalled that everything happened so fast. Mosshelm reached his horse, Duskbow, mounted and charged back at the creature which was nearly upon them. With his sword at the ready, he leaned sideways and sliced the left side of the Catoblepas; its grey and brown flesh stained with blood the moment the blade connected. The Catoblepas stumbled and rolled head over heels in Prince Felix's direction. Felix's horse, Bronzesong reared up and bucked Felix from the saddle, throwing him far into the air. He connected hard with the ground and all the wind in his lungs vacated in an instant. He lay gasping for breath; just as he was now.

He willed himself to crawl and even that was an enormous task. He had to get to The Butcher to see if the great warrior still had a pulse; what he would do after, he was not sure, but for now, he needed to know if the situation was as bad as it seemed. He moved along on his belly, clawing at the muddy earth as he moved along, like a fish out of water, trying to get back to the safety of the water. He floundered his way over and had to stop multiple times along the short distance to allow himself time to gasp for air and for the pain to subside as much as possible. Once he made it to The Butcher he could see the extent of the damage and his heart sank; there was blood pooling around the body, far more than any man could live without. He gingerly placed his fingers against the man's neck and felt for the pulse that never came. He moved his fingers and tried again to find it but there was nothing; The Butcher was dead. Felix cried out and a rumble and c***k of thunder filled the sky. 

Miles away, Jacob, and the other men, were riding hard, back to The Wall. Jacob could not believe that things had gone as smoothly as they did. He admitted to himself that he had feared that The Butcher may have suspected some sort of foul play, but evidently not. The old fool had let his guard down and he paid with his life. As for his cousin, Jacob felt no remorse. Felix had always been a thorn in his side; a good-looking, well-rounded, and well-liked thorn, who could always do things right. Even Jacob's deceased father had seemingly loved Felix more than Jacob. Felix was the heir to the throne and would have had heirs of his own; if nothing had been done, Jacob's chance of sitting on the throne was all but none.

A plan had to be hatched and it came in the form of the disgruntled prime ruler of Vlone, Anibus, a self-proclaimed god who had grown tired of being ruled by King Theodore Hemming. At the birthday celebrations of the king, Anibus offered to give Jacob reign over the Portum region, for his alliance and assistance in disposing of the current royal family. Jacob had agreed instantly to do all he could to assist in overthrowing the king. So when Anibus presented the moissanite necklace gift and Felix advised his father to have it inspected first, Jacob had to act quickly. He knew that if the druids and mages were called to assess the safety of the gift, that they would pick up that something was amiss, even if they would not be able to denote the exact dark magic that was bound to it. Anibus had himself bound, with the use of terribly dark magic, the essence of Catoblepas breath to the necklace. Anyone who touched or wore the necklace would be struck down by the deadly poison and if the wearer or another tried to remove the necklace once it was adorned, it would only worsen their state.

That was as far as their plan had extended, they only intended to get rid of the king for now as it would have been too suspicious had both the king and prince taken ill at the same time, but then dear Prince Felix offered Jacob with a solution. They would go and seek out some old teacher of his in the hope of healing the king, but to do that they would need to cross through the perilous land of Medius, where they were likely to encounter an array of potential dangers. The Medius region was home to three major villages: Medius Unus; Medius Duo; and Medius Tribus. And they along with the rest of the region were home to an array of menacing creatures and vagabonds. Before they embarked on the journey it was known that they may have come into contact with trolls, cyclops, or even giants. This was apart from the creatures like Drakes and Et Pedes, which were both of the family of dragons. So no one would have been surprised if they had run into trouble of some sort.

"Hold up!" Jacob ordered the men as he brought his own horse to a halt and brushed the black curtain of hair from his face. "Before we go any further, you will all need to sustain some form of battle injury."

"My lord?" Crystoll Zhoirik queried, his cheeks flushed from the recent excitement. "How do you mean?"

"My meaning is clear enough," Jacob scoffed at the young soldier and looked to the rest of the party, "is it not?"

"There is no way," Sir Hugo Dyryke began to explain as though speaking to an imbecile, "that we could have made it out of the brutal attack, from the savage mountain and forest dwellers of the Medius region, unscathed whilst Sir Mosshelm and the prince fell."

"How should we injure ourselves?" Dwyght Zhoirik spoke up from behind the bush of a red beard.

The other men too seemed uncertain as to what they ought to do. They looked quizzically amongst themselves and exchanged confused glances. Was it not enough that The Butcher and Prince Felix were dead? Why now should they sustain injuries as well?

"Like this," Sir Hugo spat, with impatience and annoyance growing in his voice. He sat on his horse, adjacent to Dwyght and suddenly the man let out a gasp and he coughed up a mouthful of blood. Sir Hugo withdrew his sword from the man's back and he collapsed to the ground, dead.

"No!" Crystoll Zhoirik screamed and reached for his blade, but he was too late. Sir Hugo galloped forward and like a jouster, put his sword out and knocked Crystoll from his perch. The young man fell hard to the ground and the hooves of Hugo's horse trampled him, leaving only a tangled mess of a body in the rain-soaked earth.

"Just cutting off any possible loose ends, my lord," Sir Hugo said to Jacob as he wiped the blood from his sword.

The other men did not take any convincing, they quickly began to pound each other's armor with their swords, they pierced one another's chainmail vests and made sure that the cuts were deep enough to penetrate the skin and even draw blood; one even suggested that they let some of the horses go and ride in tandem. It was decided that three horses would be set free and the riders of those horses would climb onto those of their compatriots. Additionally, the bodies of the father and son, were placed back on their horses and Sir Hugo slapped their hides and away they galloped.

The only one who felt conflicted over their actions was Yeoman Reinfrid, who although he was in the process of slicing a cut into his shoulder, did not feel that what they were doing was right, even though he had known the plan all along. He liked The Butcher, who had personally taught him much whilst they practiced their sword work and Prince Felix did not seem to be the prude which he had imagined him to be. The prince was in fact quite nice and he had even defended him when the others mocked him for being in awe of The Wall. However, there was no turning back now. What would Sir Hugo do if he dared to utter a word to the contrary of what Jacob had decided? At best they would cut out his tongue so that he could not bear witness to what had truly happened and at worst he would be on the sharp end of Sir Hugo's blade, just like the Zhoiriks. So regardless of how he felt, he hid his true thoughts under wraps and played the part of a complicit soldier.

When the gates opened for them at The Wall, they were a sorry sight to behold. They were lesser in number and looked as though they had been attacked by a horde of either cyclops, giants, or mountain trolls.

Captain Aubrey came rushing down from her chambers and greeted them at the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes immediately scanned the group for the prince, then Dwyght Zhoirik and his son, finally she even tried to spot The Butcher and his Manticore cloak - none of them were present. It was only Jacob, Sir Hugo, and a band of battered-looking soldiers.

"What happened?" she hissed, not meaning for her tone to sound as rude as it did.

Jacob, with an eye that was swollen shut and badly blackened, swung clumsily from his horse and stepped forward to speak on their behalf. "We were ambushed by a hoard of mountain trolls, just past the Onus River. They came from all sides. They had us trapped in a gorge, with nowhere to turn." He paused to catch his breath as the words flowed from his mouth like a man trying to recount the events of a brutal attack. "The prince, Sir Mosshelm, and the two Zhoirik men got separated from the group as they were riding up front. We were able to fend off those that attacked us from the rear, but by the time we tried to push forward to help them… they had already been overwhelmed and overpowered; there was no saving them, as they were already gone."

"They're dead?" she pressed.

"As certain as I still breathe," Jacob said and tears began to well up in his eyes. "The prince is dead and it's entirely my fault; I never should have agreed to this fool's quest, but he insisted that we had to do it. He wanted so badly to find Whitbane and now my cousin is dead."

Captain Aubrey gestured for attendants to come and help the men to the mess hall and for the stable boys to come and collect the horses. Once the men were seen to and were filling their bellies with warm food and sitting idly by the fire talking quietly amongst themselves and the horses were stabled, Captain Aubrey called for Jacob to meet with her in her chambers.

She sat; her glistening yellow eyes studied him long and hard as he sat on the opposite side of her desk, drinking wine. He seemed quite relaxed now, not nearly as upset as he had been when his disheveled party had arrived back. She had her own cup in hand; drinking goat’s blood. She did not have the stomach for human food and long gone were the years where vampires could feed off of their true life source: human blood. There was a time, before King Theodore, and his father before him when vampires were feared by men and did not have to bow to any human ruler. They preyed on people and were almost godlike. Now though they were few in number; those who had not adopted the newly approved diet were hunted down and killed, by the likes of men such as The Butcher, who had killed her brother.

She had not forgotten the day when she had received the news of her brother's death, but then again, she was not completely unaware of it either. She like many vampires held a special gift - hers was the gift of foresight. She had had a vision of his demise and was unfortunately too late to help him, but now she was able to help herself.

"I saw the attack on Prince Felix and the others…" she began and took a sip of her goat's blood.

The fear was instantaneously recognizable on Jacob's face, it was fleeting, but it was there and it immediately cemented her vision. He looked at her with confusion scribbled haphazardly across his face.

"You saw?" he asked and leaned forward in his seat. He glanced around the room trying not to allow her to have direct eye contact with him, lest his gaze give anything away. There was the large wooden desk and two chairs in which they sat. Apart from that, the room was home to little else. Its stone walls felt like they were pressing in on him. There was a bed, which Jacob found amusing as vampires did not sleep, but perhaps the Captain did lie down from time to time. There was a counter with a washbasin on it, no mirror as she would not be able to see her own reflection even if she wanted to. And a bookshelf with a handful of scrolls sat against the one wall. By the far wall, there was a fireplace, but by the looks of it, the Captain had had it bricked up. Fire, the only thing that scared a vampire, that and perhaps werewolves.

"Not in the sense that you would think," she said mysteriously. "I had a vision when you first arrived. I saw you cutting the prince down in a gorge and leaving his body for the carrion birds."

"That's ridiculous, we were attacked by –"

"By mountain trolls… Yes, I remember," she said airily. "But you see there is just one thing wrong with this tall tale of yours, Jacob Fortis… Mountain trolls live near the great Mount of Medius, far past the Onus River, past the forest, and then still even past the Sordidum River. They never stray as far as you have said."

"You have no proof of this, it will be all of our words against yours," he said, trying not to let the hint of fear pass through into his speech. He deposited the cup of wine on the desk and rose to his feet. He was done here. He felt his footing to be a bit unsteady, perhaps the wine was the cause or it may have been that the blood had drained from his face. Either way, he suddenly felt uneasiness in his belly and had to steady himself with the back of the char.

"Sit down!" Captain Aubrey almost hissed at him through her fangs. She was not going to take insolence or backtalk, even from a little lordling. She was one hundred and two years old and although young for a vampire, she had certainly seen and experienced enough to know when she was being lied to and in this particular case it was absolutely blatant. "I know you conspired to kill your cousin, the prince. I know you killed that boy Crystoll Zhoirik and his father, but I also know that you killed The Butcher and that is something for which I can smile."

Now he was truly confused. First, he was being accused of the crime of murder and now she was congratulating him for snuffing out the flame which was Sir John Mosshelm. He did not like the idea of being told to sit, but his interest in what she may have to say was peaked. That and he felt rather light-headed.

"Alright, I'm listening," he said with a slight slur and sat back down.

"More wine first I should think," she said and filled his cup. She needed him to loosen up and for his tongue to wag about the plans which she too wanted to be a part of.

"If you insist," Jacob said and raised his cup in agreement.

When they left the following morning to ride back to the capital, Jacob had one thing on his mind and that was the hope that the throne would now be empty; Felix would have met his end in the ditch in which they left him and the king would be long dead in his chambers.

The meeting the night before had brought forth many fruitful things for him to think upon. Captain Aubrey agreed that Anibus should be the rightful ruler of Terra Somnia and that the time of man was at its end. It was now the chance for those of more magical origins to be the ones to truly rule. Yes, man would still have their place and she felt that Portum could very well be the place for them as it already was the only region which was home to only human.

All the captain asked in return for her allegiance to him was that vampires be allowed the right to at least purchase blood from those humans who would be willing to sell the chance to once again gorge on true blood. She and many of her kind were tired of the near tasteless animal substitute which they had been forced to adopt as their food source.

In return for this, Jacob had secured himself The Wall within one simple night of drinking. The Wall would very well be a strategic stronghold if those of the Fortis and Occupatus regions decided to rebel against their new leadership.

Jacob rode with the wind at his back and his long hair whipping back and forth. He felt like a king racing towards his new kingdom and he had to admit it felt good. At twenty-four years old, he would be one of the youngest rulers in all of Terra Somnia and the price was well worth it. He smiled to himself and encouraged his horse to move ever more swiftly toward his castle. If the king was still alive, which he doubted, it would be of no consequence. Anubis would supply him with the force to overthrow the crown and all those who were loyal to it. Nothing would stand in the way of his rise to power. 

They rode swiftly through the forest of the Neutral region and the wind caused the trees to sway back and forth, almost as though they were bending and bowing to their new ruler. See, even the trees know who their new master is.  He thought confidently to himself. It was all finally coming to pass; everything was falling into place as he had always hoped. 

They made camp at the same spot at the edge of the forest, but this time there was no revelry and music and jovial laughter. A sense of forlorn hung over the camp and the tired soldiers said little in the way they felt about the recent events, lest they speak out of turn and find themselves cut down just like the Zhoiriks. 

Yeoman Reinfrid lay in his tent, unable to sleep that night, whilst all around him there was the sound of men breathing and snoring. He had half a mind to sneak out of the tent, go over to Jacob's and slice the man's throat in the dead of night. But honor bound him to Jacob and as much as he was ashamed of their actions, his lord and master was Jacob Fortis, the man who was soon to be the new king of all of Portum. So instead, he tried to quell the voices that swarmed in his mind, telling him that none of this was right, rolled over and went to sleep.