Dwellers of the Deep (Harbinger of Doom Volume 4) by Thater Glenn

Author:Thater, Glenn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy, sword and sorcery, epic fantasy, mythology, series, saga, historical fantasy, mens adventure, fantasy fiction, norse, young adult fantasy, best fantasy series, top fantasy book, best fantasy novel

XI

KING, COUP, AND CONSPIRACY TOO

“In Midgaard, nothing is as it appears. Nothing.”

— Ob A. Faz III

The king’s corridor was wide, as far as corridors go, and floored in gleaming white marble streaked with blue and black. The stone carried up the wall for three feet before transitioning to dark wood panels that kissed the coffered wood ceiling high above. Closely spaced marble columns lined one side of the passage and jutted from the wall, creating a series of alcoves. In each, was either a door or a marble shelf that displayed an ornate bust or a carving of a past king, legendary hero, or famed wizard of history, each piece more rare and majestic than the last.

Duke Harringgold walked confidently down the corridor, Pipkorn at his side, surrounded by steel; every booted step echoed off the hall’s stark walls. “An entire regiment couldn’t pass here if these men denied them,” whispered Harringgold.

“I don’t doubt that,” said Pipkorn eyeing the dangerous-looking men that escorted them. The Dramadeens, the king’s personal bodyguards, walked in front and behind, a dozen strong. Others lined the corridor before this door and that. They wore tabards inlaid with the Tenzivel coat-of-arms on a light-blue field, signifying their station, though beyond that, each was differently dressed and equipped. Each one, a named man of formidable history and reputation.

At one time, the Myrdonian order, commonly called the royal knights, guarded these ways, as was their duty far back into antiquity. The king had long ago lost faith in that elder brotherhood, believing them pawns and stooges for Chancellor Barusa. Instead, these past ten years or more, the king expanded the Dramadeens from what had been an honor guard of a handful of men, to a formidable core of stalwart warriors drawn from all parts of the kingdom and parts foreign, each one hand-picked by Korvalan of Courwood, their commander.

Each time Harringgold had audience with the king these last several years, he noted their numbers continued to swell. A fine strategy for without them, Harringgold knew the king would have long since been dead, his son, and nieces with him. As it was, they were virtual prisoners in the palace, leaving only rarely. Only Cartegian moved about reasonably freely — safe from most harm and intrigues due to his madness. He would never be allowed to assume the throne, so he was no threat — in fact, he often proved a useful tool in the Chancellor’s machinations.

The Duke long sympathized with the king’s predicament, now more than ever. The attempted assassination of Lord Theta in Harringgold's own fortress by some of his own soldiers had changed everything. His family, his fortress, and his very life were much less secure than Harringgold had always assumed. He knew that now, without any doubt, and that made him anxious, wary, and angry. Above all, angry. How many spies did his household harbor? How many assassins? Who could be trusted amongst his guards, his servants, his staff? Gods, even amongst the family? And if he couldn't trust his own, he certainly couldn’t trust the king’s men.

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