Several days had passed before Iskald regained even some of his strength. He was stricken down with fatigue and fastened to bed by weakness, and though his spirit was as eager as ever to be up and around, he was forced to remain confined to bed.

During this time he was visited by the King himself, who came to his chambers to learn the details of the Chancellor’s treachery. Iskald presented him with the letter written by G’nuraq and recounted all the events that led to the battle under Zimm Mountains. Here he was wholeheartedly supported by Princess Laela and Duke Nathaniel, who both maintained that were it not for Iskald’s swift and bold actions, everything would have ended in a different way, one they dared not imagine.

The aging Monarch easily believed them all, especially since a keen investigation into the Chancellor’s life revealed that he had been in fact approached by the Serpent Order several years before and persuaded by them to conspire against Diovinius. Nylahss himself admitted to being recruited by the Order after they had promised him fortune and power.

Under the threat of torture he also admitted to his involvement in the foiled plan to murder the King; he confessed that since the plan did not succeed, he thought his best alternative was then to slay the Princess and by doing so, to deprive Nekrya of an heir and throw the kingdom into chaos. He quickly gathered a group of local Serpents, arranged for Laela to be outside of the city walls, and had it not been for Iskald, he whimpered, the Princess would not be among the living today.

The King had heard enough; despite his high rank among Nekryan aristocrats, Nylahss was promptly sentenced to death. What was more, Diovinius publicly condemned the Serpent Order and ordered all those who identified themselves with the Order to denounce their heritage or to leave his Kingdom within the next seven days. After that time had passed all those suspected of belonging to the Order, or even of having the slightest connection with the Serpents, would be punished by death and all their wealth would be confiscated by the state.

There was a violent reaction to this edict, but Diovinius did not back down, stating that he was being unreasonably lenient toward the Serpents anyway. After all, they were given a chance to take their belongings and to leave peacefully without losing their lives, in spite of their grave and treacherous offence.

As a result of this stern order during the next few days the streets and roads leading out of Nekrya were packed with people and wagons, all hurrying to depart the unfriendly Kingdom. Under heavy escort, for fear of a violent reaction on the part of other Nekryans, thousands of Serpents and their families headed towards the neighboring Kingdoms of Tha-ka, Burrodha and Surath. Doubtless, they were not to be received there with open arms.

Iskald was not present at Nylahss’ execution, but cared little about it. Instead, he was so overcome with such joy that he could barely lie back on his bed. Laela had forgiven him, after all! Once again she visited him when he lay stricken with fever, again they talked, again they spent time with one another. Iskald was in heaven.

In light of everything that was going on in his life now, the memories of the years spent in slavery, those years of torment and pain, were long forgotten. It was so long ago, after all; he was only a boy then, he was a man now. No longer did he seek vengeance. Isla was gone, Cisil was dead and so was Shira. His revenge was complete, justice was restored; the world was finally making sense again.

Again, as during the time when he was growing up on the misty shores of Lyons, it was a world where the good prevailed and where the wicked were struck down. Again the gods smiled down on him. And all that Iskald wanted to do now was to keep this heaven from crumbling.

Some had time passed before the young Northerner noted a dark cloud hanging over his newly found earthly paradise, one that threatened its peace and harmony. Thus far it was only a small cloud, but it could just as easily turn into darkness, into a night as black as tar.

Indeed, as more time passed Iskald noticed that little dark cloud changing into a storm thick with misery and gloom. It approached quickly and threatened to ruin his heavenly haven. The savage storm Iskald saw coming was embodied by the young, charismatic, and noble Duke Nathaniel.

The young Duke of Burrodha, the future King of a powerful nation, traveled the world with a group of his most trusted companions, meeting Lords and Monarchs, learning about people and the places they lived in. Having come to Nekrya, in a short time Nathaniel was able to win over the respect and love of its citizens.

Rescuing the Princess and the respected Captain of the Company from the hands of the wicked Serpents surely had something to do with this wave of fame and worship he was overwhelmed with, but there was more to it than just his brave actions.

Thanks to what had happened Nathaniel came to be known for his courage and skill, but soon the Nekryans came to know him from another side as well. It was commonly said that the young Duke was not only valiant and relentless in battle, not only was he a great leader and Lord; most of all, he was friendly, just, and noble.

Being brought up to believe that all people were his equals, he loved and respected them all. He was kind, intelligent, witty, and full of great stories. He loved life and he loved people. Wherever he happened to go, he was continuously surrounded by people, although they were mostly women; among other things, Nathaniel was also a very handsome young man.

He always had a kind word for everyone, whether it be a noble or a commoner, a warrior or a merchant, a Duke or a beggar. In a short time, he had overtaken the King’s Court by storm and soon his name was on the lips of everyone in Arrosah. He inspired all those who met him and they all marveled at the sight of this young, promising Monarch. All, including King Diovinius as well as his daughter.

And only Iskald did not succumb to this wave of awe and veneration. Only Iskald could not bring himself even to like the Duke, though he had no reason to dislike him and could hardly have anything against the man. On the contrary, he should have been grateful to Nathaniel for having saved his life and the life of Laela from the hands of the vile Serpents. It was hard for Iskald to harvest that feeling, however; it was difficult for him to look at Nathaniel and not feel the pangs of jealousy in light of the relationship that slowly bloomed between Laela and the charming Duke.

Deep down inside, lurking somewhere in the depths of his soul, there was a fear that Nathaniel would step between him and the lovely Princess. There was a fear that the Duke would manage to single-handedly ruin everything Iskald had hoped for, everything that he had dreamt of for months, since the very first day he had laid his eyes on Laela.

The powerful feelings that the young Northerner was quite suddenly experiencing now when thinking about the Princess, when looking at her, when talking to her, they were all new to Iskald. After all this time they were still new to him, and the young man was not quite sure how to handle them. He was realizing now that he loved the Princess and that he could not sit around idly while her heart was being conquered by an unexpected rival.

Once Iskald was finally able to leave his chambers and mingle among the crowds aristocrats and the nobles that continuously strolled the floors and the corridors of the palace, he heard rumors that left him feeling very anxious and unsure about the near future. The rumors of a romance flourishing between the Duke and the Princess, of him asking to marry her, and of her saying yes, and finally, rumors of a planned marriage; they all left Iskald startled and unable to grasp his own feelings.

Suddenly he could no longer position himself in his surroundings, he could no longer see his place on the Nekryan Court, he started doubting everything that he thought Laela and he had ever shared.

He was a fool, he thought to himself, spending yet another sleepless night in a pub, aimlessly watching the whores dancing on the stage before him. He was a fool for even thinking that there was some sort of a connection between him and the Princess, that she would ever even look at him in that way, that she would look past all the differences separating them. She would not, she could not, he reasoned. She was spoiled like all the rest of the women raised on Courts and in Palaces, she was self-centered and selfish, and she rejected his love as soon as another possibility appeared before her.

Everything, the past, the present, the different prospects that the future held, they were all making less and less sense that night, more and more so with each cup of wine he wolfed down. Iskald could no longer say for sure what was real and what was not, what was part of his imaginings, what was part of his dreams, and what was part of the gossip he heard in the palace.

He shook his head, finished his wine and took the whore upstairs where he spent half the night convincing her as well himself of his own manhood, leaving the girl in the middle of the night with her legs spread wide, hands clasped over the heaving breasts, her mouth open but speechless; nearly breathless after an explosion of previously unknown pleasures.

Iskald had returned to the palace when the rays of the morning sun were just beginning to stroke its tall towers, drunk and breathing heavily, longing to reach his chambers and to go to sleep. But passing through the maze of corridors he was forced to walk near the chambers of the Duke of Burrodha and it was here that Iskald’s drunken and deluded mind was again showered with the images of Nathaniel and Laela.

He stopped and leaned against the wall, gripping the handle of his sword, breathing hard, closing his eyes and trying to calm himself down. Image after image of Nathaniel and Laela, their naked bodies twisting in a savage dance of love and lust, under the covers, his panting and sighing, her moaning, the sounds and images filled his head and enraged him.

No longer able to recognize the difference between what was real and what was not, in Iskald’s mind it all constituted the same thing and it all amounted to one very real consequence: he was going to lose Laela to Nathaniel. The young Captain bared his teeth in a malicious grin and having unsheathed his sword, he pushed himself off the wall and then stumbled towards Nathaniel’s chambers.

It was still too early for anyone to be up and about, so Iskald met no one on his way. The corridors and the halls of the palace were empty and quiet and the only sound the young man could hear was that of his own heavy footsteps, echoing off the walls and high ceilings.

The darkness of the early morning moments was only illuminated by dozens of torches fastened by metal braces to the walls of the corridors. Their light made the bare blade in Iskald’s hand shimmer in the darkness. The reddish light danced on the steel, escaped it, then came back again as he neared another torch.

His bloodshot eyes shone dangerously, mirroring the battle still raging in his soul. Wicked thoughts overtook his mind, he felt himself losing control, felt himself being drawn into and behind the red veil of madness. His crazed eyes were still full of the fantastic images, and Laela’s playful moaning still echoed in his drunken head...

Iskald slowly turned into the corridor where Nathaniel’s chambers were located and looked towards the door leading to his rooms. Only one torch was still lit, the rest of them have already burnt out. A drowsy Nekryan warrior kept guard in front of Nathaniel’s chamber, but he was much too lazy to walk over and light the remaining of the torches. Iskald grinned again as he stumbled into the gloomy hallway; this was not going to be difficult at all, he smiled to himself.

The guard heard his footsteps and turned to face the newcomer, keeping his hand near the handle of the sword that hung loose by his belt. He could not see the man’s face in the dim light of the corridor.

“Who goes?” he asked in a low voice.

“It’s me, you fool!” Iskald responded as he stepped closer and entered a ring of light. The Nekryan guard eased up having recognized his Captain and leaned back against the wall to assume his previous position. He failed to notice the sword in Iskald’s hand, nor did he see the malicious grin plastered to his lips, or the crazed look in his bloodshot eyes.

“Is everything alright?” the Nekryan asked.

Iskald said nothing and kept coming instead, faster and faster, and then, having approached to the guard, he suddenly reached out with his free hand and savagely drove the man’s head against the stone behind him. The guard’s skull collided with the brick fast and hard, and recoiled just as quickly. The man groaned painfully and collapsed to the ground unconscious and unmoving.

Proceed to part 2...

Copyright © 2008 by Slawomir Rapala