King of the Dead by Gene DeWeese

Author:Gene DeWeese [DeWeese, Gene]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-7869-0483-9
Publisher: Fanversion Publishing
Published: 2016-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Early the next morning, while his servants were beginning the packing that would doubtless occupy them for several days, Firan presented himself at the palace in Rauxes and, after many an attempt to dissuade him and a few tedious ceremonials, he was free to depart. The envoy and his attendants, who were to be Firan’s main escort, were waiting when he emerged into the late morning sun, the ten steeds they had so presciently brought him from Knurl saddled and ready.

His Sight ranging far ahead, Firan was easily able to avoid the first covey of assassins who had set up an elaborate ambush only a few miles from Rauxes. He smiled as he sent word back to Prince Edron, who would be eager to repay a small part of his debt for his rescue by leading a detachment of his best troops to overrun the would-be ambushers.

The second group was hidden, so they vainly believed, in the thickets of the Adri Forest not far beyond Edgefield, where the only road skirted the forest well within arrow range. Here one of the rogue wizards thought to use his own sorcerous powers in the engagement, but he was no more effective than the pathetic hedge wizard who had foolishly stood against Firan in Eastfair.

“See to the traitors’ identities,” Firan ordered when all attackers lay dead or mortally wounded, their own arrows turned back upon them. “I would know the name of whoever wished me dead.” As his followers obeyed, dealing merciful death to the few survivors, Firan tended to the rogue wizard, frozen and near death in the backlash of his own feeble spells. There was, however, nothing in his thoughts or knowledge worth salvaging. Even his life energy was oddly tainted, so that Firan let it dissipate, unhindered, into the death-laden air.

The envoy returned from his grim task to report, “These assassins were in the hire of Baron Sennefort, my lord.”

“He is one of the largest thorns in the warden’s side, is he not?” Firan said with an almost indiscernible smile. “Well, I would say Sennefort’s power is due for a downturn. Doubtless it has already been greatly diminished by this little encounter. Let us proceed on our way and discover who else has interest in stopping me from claiming my inheritance.”

The group that awaited them in the tiny village of Stulwick, however, greeted Firan not with arrows and spells but with cheers and shouts of joy. The same rumors that had led to the ambushes had spread to the general populace as well, and the peasants had watched with trepidation as Sennefort’s men had marched through only days earlier, arrogant in their confidence that they could deal with Ranald Zal’honan’s long-lost brother with ease. The villagers’ joy upon learning how wrong Sennefort’s surly and abusive troops had been was unbounded, and many joined the new earl’s escort, some on horses more used to plow harness than saddle, others on their own sturdy legs.

And so it was in the next village,

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