Westhaven by Rowan Erlking (ebook audio reader .txt) 📖

aim at his suffering friend’s neck and chopped.

The body still moved.

Pulling back, Key watched as Kleston doused the body with liquor the witch had brought. Then he looked over to the city, wondering what the magician had done with Gregor.

It was hours later before he got his answer.

Yadis was livid. So was Lesar and Donal. The three Cordrils stomped back up into their campsite and gathered their things, barely even glancing at the fire where Kleston was now singing a song of mourning over the dead. They were soon followed by the other men who were shouting at them. The magician was nursing a bite with last of the poultice smeared on it.

“Well what did you think I was going to do?” the magician shouted after the blue-eyed pale men. “That city is entirely populated with Sky Children. I’m sure you love seeing the faces of the blue-eyes you kill, but we can’t afford to wait for the duration it takes to kill them all one-by-one. This way is faster!”

“What’s going on?” Kleston stopped his song.

Lesar pointed at the magician. “He just led Gregor into that city to infect all those Camuses! That is not how I wanted my friend to go!”

“A city full of Waking Corpses?” Key stared up at the magician.

“Yeah! Brilliant, huh?” the magician said, grinning from ear to ear.

“What have you done?” Kleston shouted, staring at the magician as if he wanted to strangle him.

The Cordrils stomped off.

“The agreement between us is over.” Lesar shouted back he went, sheathing his sword with a glare that said he would be glad to take it out again and chop the magician’s head off. “You buried yourselves.”

Key watched him stomp past. Then Key looked to the magician who was casting jeers at the white demons.

“Yeah? Well who needs you? We now know how to get rid of those skin suckers ourselves!” The magician waved to the city. But then noticed Kleston’s anxious looks. Vang the magician, turned. “Don’t worry. The witch is brewing up a seeking fire as we speak. He will have every Walking Corpse on fire by the end of the night. The city will burn.”

“What have you done?” Kleston walked over to the magician, grabbing his shirt. “We needed allies!”

Jerking from him, the magician shook his head. He stepped back. “No. We don’t need those things as allies. We need to reclaim our world from them.”

“By using Walking Corpses?” Kleston stared at him with disbelief.

“Yes,” the magician said.

“No!” Kleston shouted back. He stomped up the hill away from him, grabbing his own bag. “We lost one of our men! And also an ally! We were lucky that one demon was stalking us was near the end of its curse. And we were even luckier that Key stopped Gregor from getting the rest of us.”

“I don’t believe in luck,” the magician said. “We did it with our might.”

“It was luck, you idiot!” Kleston shouted at him. His fists were clenched.

Down below, a sudden flume of fire blossomed from the rock walls like a torch. It flooded the city as ripple of light. Howls shrieked into the air, slitting it with an eerie moan that carried straight through their chests. They could see the witch jog back up the hill singed and panting. He shook his head as if he finally realized he had done a terrible thing.

“And that,” Kleston said pointing at the city, “is genocide.”

“It would have been better to see the faces of those who died,” Key muttered, gazing back to where the Cordrils had gone. “It wasn’t brutality that made them want to see them, it was to remember that they were people.”

“They are blue-eyes, Key.” The magician picked up his things and started back towards their forest camp. “Demons. The same kind that made you a slave and burned your village.”

But Key hung his head, remembering the screaming of the villagers that General Winstrong had slaughtered. He remembered the pillar of fire that he had seen of miles of his home burning. This was the same. And he had become like the general.

He broke down and cried.

 

Chapter Fourteen: Rise and Fall

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Welcome to Westhaven,” Gailert Winstrong said, greeting the young and fairly naive looking man that walked from the steam ship onto the docks. The attendants with him had a stuffy appearance about them that reminded Gailert of the Sky Lord’s aides. They all maintained the smug sneer Head Minister Mollen had when they looked at him. He decided to ignore it.

The young heir to the throne blinked at Gailert and said, “You have brown eyes.”

Among many circles on and off the island, that was meant as an insult.

Gailert’s smile remained resolved. “Indeed. I am General Gailert Winstrong, retired general of the Sky Lord’s most high governing military.”

The heir blinked again, glancing at Gailert’s gloved hand, which the general had extended. “You wish to remain a mystery?”

The general’s smile broadened. “Do you really wish to know what is in my head?”

Nodding, the heir met his gaze.

Emitting a snort, Gailert removed his glove. He knew the Sky Lord had wanted it this way. Trust had been the issue. So Gailert focused on the conversation with the Sky Lord as his introduction to his motivations. Their hands connected, and Gailert felt that uncomfortable drain that brought on the feeling of death.

But the young heir blinked and let go of the general’s hand after one singular shake, hardly taking any strength from him at all. The heir smiled and then nodded to General Winstrong. “I see he personally selected you. Very well. I will accept you as my escort.”

They walked up the dock along the canal to the shore where Gailert’s car awaited, holding their breaths from the stench of the somewhat fetid water. The young heir walked with his head erect and his hands resting behind his back with that tall, fresh dignified stance Gailert knew was taught in all schools of behavior back on the island. With his attendants following them, maintaining their smug yet somehow annoyed expressions as they kept up with the general’s pace, the heir spoke casually to the general as if he had found his most trusted advisor was also a soul mate.

“I had heard much about, General Winstrong. Both good and bad,” the young heir said. “I often wondered why the Sky Lord had entrusted so much in you when you were obviously without the gift. But now I see you were born with another gift.”

Gailert blinked at him with mild surprise. “Really? And what might that be?”

The young heir smiled. “You are a hunter that understands his prey very well.”

It was strange being called a hunter. In way, it was degrading.

But then the heir said, “I’m a hunter myself. I am seeking the total dominance and reformation of the northern continent. I intend to surpass my predecessors. And I need men like you.”

For some reason Gailert was still not comforted. This man’s nature was different than the current Sky Lord’s. More savage than civilized. Gailert would have preferred a reformer rather than a man that considered himself a hunter. It only meant the military would be made to work harder, their limits stretched. That wasn’t always wise.

“Unfortunately, you are retired, am I right?” the heir asked.

Gailert nodded, sighing with the weight of age. “Yes, my lord. I had retired this last year.”

“Does your retirement agree with you?” the heir asked, giving him a sincere look that said he already knew it didn’t.

With a smile, Gailert replied, “Though my body is worn with age, my spirit is still quite young and relishes to finish the fight.”

Nodding, the heir grinned. “Then maybe I’ll have a place for you my new regime that can satisfy both needs.”

They walked on then entered the automobile that waited for them on the road.

 

The tour of Stiltson lasted two days. The train ride to Roan, only one. The heir to the Sky Lord’s legacy wanted to see the city that general Winstrong had built as well as the other cities he had overseen. He had heard also from the men who had served under him about their success in the Southwest corner as well as in the Eastern district. Captain Welsin had bragged about their success in routing out insurgents, though he was honest about the tendency for the raiders of Herra to rise up on occasion. It was good timing too since soon after they received the report of the city they were building in Herra Hills had burned down.

“The entire city?” Gailert asked to make sure he heard right.

The heir stood by watching them in silence, observing his famous general and likewise famous captain of an important part of his armies.

“That’s right,” the corporal with the telegram from Herra said. “When they saw the fire they investigated it. But the worst is those that entered the city could not step out, not until they found the black markings of magic surrounding the city. It took them days to figure out how to destroy it.”

“That’s the worst part?” Captain Welsin said, shaking his head. “Magicians we can deal with, but what about that report about the bodies?”

Closing his eyes, the corporal nodded. “Yes, sir. Mangled. Like they started attacking each other. They’re still going through the debris and searching through the dead. But most of them have been burnt to the bone.”

“Is this common?” the heir to the throne asked after his long silence.

Both men turned and shook their heads.

“No, my lord,” Gailert said. “Though we have handled magicians and witches before, they rarely work in tandem. And it seems the also used a demon to attack the city. This is incredibly rare.”

“But they might do it again,” the heir said, his looks darkening.

Gailert nodded slowly. “It appears so. Undoubtedly it achieved the results those savage raiders have been wanting.”

“So what do you intend to do about it?” the heir now asked with bite.

Cringing, Gailert wished to say he would handle it with crushing blow to the raiders in the Herra hills, but he was no longer in command.

Captain Welsin bowed to the heir. “We will scour those hills for the raiders until every human in them is dead.”

The heir nodded then turned to General Winstrong. “I want you to do it.”

The captain blinked at Gailert who also looked surprised.

“If you are the great general as I have heard so much about, and not a legend sent to me as a fantastic dream to encourage me to come Mainland like my predecessor rather than rule from the island, then you will end this threat.” The heir stood tall, waiting for General Winstrong’s response.

Gailert hesitated then squared his shoulders. “I must get permission from the Sky Lord to comply with your request.”

“It is not a request,” the heir said, folding his arms across his chest. “It is an order.”

To that, Gailert gazed down on the youth, with all his age speaking with him. “Not until you are sworn in as Sky Lord will I consider your commands as anything more than a request. I answer to the will of the Sky Lord alone, for he can choose another heir.

“Presently, he orders me to take you to Danslik. In the mean time, I am sure Captain Welsin can handle the riff-raff in