This, of course, is another portion of the Malik story.
Warning: Although this part of tthe story is completed, some parts are not. Large parts have not yet been written. The story is not being completed in order, so changes may be necessary to make everything fit. The parts I'm sharing I hope and plan will remain as is, but I'm not promising.
This is the beginning of Malik's participation in the story. (Another protagonist's story coincides with Malik's and then the two stories merge and continue together.) The portions posted earlier happen after this part.
Helpful definitions: rhinovore is a large beast of burden, ornigress is a large flightless bird.
Malik glared at Horobah The Malignant like an angry baby ornigress defying a rhinovore.
"Ah," Horobah purred, "At last the Prince Dominus of Rijarik Realm pays me a social call. I am most gratified."
Malik's lips tightened and his entire body tensed as though preparing to launch an attack, but he neither moved nor answered. Though tired, filthy, and aching from traversing half the continent bound and chained, Malik was determined to hold his temper and maintain some semblance of royal dignity.
On his twenty-second birthday, as was the custom for all royal males of Rijarik, Malik had set out on his solitary trek inspecting the borders of the Realm. As was also the custom, he traveled incognito and lived off the land.
Malik began his trek with inspecting the craggy, coastal borders of the Ahratay Bay. One evening as he sat near his fire contemplating the movements of the dark bay waters, five travel-weary men approached his camp. They claimed to be local peasants hunting the reindeer for sustenance for their families, but Malik suspected they were outlaws. Still, his supplies and weapons were modest and he had nothing worth stealing. Because these men, too, were subjects of the Realm, he shared his fire and meager provisions with them.
After the men had eaten, they and Malik all bedded down near the heat of the fire. The warmth and the murmuring of the bay waters lulled Malik to sleep.
Suddenly, roughly, he was jerked awake to find himself surrounded by the five men. Before his heart had ceased hammering, he was bound and chained.
The man who woke him laughed savagely, "Now, Princeling, let's go for a long ride."
Malik was not overly surprised they had recognized him. Although he wore peasant attire, he knew it was a rather ineffective disguise. His streaked flaxen hair, slightly darker mustache and beard, and sun-browned skin did not give away his identity in a land of blond outdoorsmen, but his intensely blue-violet eyes and unusual height did.
That they dared to assault him did surprise him. After all, no royal personage had been assaulted since the assassination attempt during the reign of Rijar Dominus Verohk more than three hundred years before.
Since then, both the Vicis and the the Dominus royalty had used their Powers to protect the lives of their families. When a child was born, a weardian spell, a protection ritual, was immediately performed. If the child died of violence, a curse upon the perpetrators was automatically activated. Actually, Malik didn't know what sort of horrors would befall the killers and he doubted anyone knew anymore, but the threat of unknown horrors had kept the royalty safe. Until now.
But the men hadn't killed him. Instead, they had hauled him across the continent in a rhinovore-drawn wagon to the demesne of Horobah the Malignant. Malik wondered if Horobah had devised a way to circumvent the curse.
"Come now, Princeling. Have you no manners? Is it not customary for a guest to greet his host and thank him for his hospitality?"
Staring into Horobah's colorless eyes was like looking into translucent ice in which small black bugs had been frozen. Malik dropped his gaze only to stare into the empty eye sockets of a small, fanged skull suspended from Horobah's neck. The sight loosened his tongue.
"Are you not aware of the curse that will befall you if I am harmed? Surely you do not think having your minions do the deed will absolve you. The onus will be on your head. The curse will find you." Malik wasn't sure of this, but it seemed likely that the curse would have such provisions.
Horobah laughed, or Malik thought that's what it was although it sounded more like the mating cries of the ornigress than human laughter. But then, he reflected, Horobah may not be entirely human.
"Princeling, Princeling. That curse is only activated upon your demise. My hospitality does not include your assassination."
"Your minions spoke of the Prince Vicus Kador assuming the throne upon my father's death. If I live, he cannot become heir to the throne."
"You err, Princeling. He will assume the throne if you have disappeared."
"Do you propose to keep me prisoner for the rest of my life, then? I promise you I will make your life miserable. I will continue attempting to escape until I become free. Then I will make your life even more miserable. I will be the Rijar Dominus and I will return -- with all the power of the Rijarik Realm behind me."
"You will not escape me, Princeling."
"I will. And what do you gain from taking this risk? What benefit to you putting Prince Vicus Kador on the throne?"
"I will gain power," Horobah said as he spread his arms. The flowing sleeves of his filthy raploch burnoose hung from his upraised arms like wings. With his large, sharp nose, colorless eyes, and malicious grin, he looked like an immense bird of prey about to swoop down from the dais to attack Malik. "I will have control. I will have Rijarik Realm. And when I have Rijarik, I will take Rhitwizah Queendom."
Malik drew himself up so sharply his chains rattled. Incredible! The demented, evil fool planned to control the entire continent! But, how? Kador?
"You lie, filth of the Malgrey Mountains! Your plan will not work, and I cannot believe Kador is behind this scheme."
Horobah swung his right arm forward, his burnoose wing flowing and swirling, and angrily pointed at Malik.
"Kador will take the throne, and I will have Rijarik and Rhitzwizah!"
"Kador is a good man. If he took the throne, he would not give control to the likes of you, daemon spawn," Malik replied.
"Kador is a weak man. There are those of his family who control him. And I control them. When your father dies -- which can't be long -- we will have Rijarik."
Malik's chains rattled again. Who in the Vicis Royal Family could be behind this? Impossible to tell. The two royal families shared government power, but the Dominus family held not only the Rijarship but all the primary posts. The Vicis family held only the deputy posts. When the throne falls to the Vicis family, they become the Dominus family and take all the primary posts. Therefore, virtually every member of the Vicis family stood to benefit from a change in rule. And this change could occur only when the Rijar died without a male heir to the throne.
Malik shuddered. Horobah was right; Kador, though a good man, was weak. Malik was the only male heir of the Dominus family, and his father was very ill, had been these past two years. Anger boiled up knotting in his throat.
"You won't get away with this, you ill-begotten son of a sea serpent," he shouted. "My father will search--all the land, if need be."
"They will not search, Lord Princekin." Horobah's voice rose as he stepped to the edge of the dais. "They think you dead."
"Father will know the curse has not been invoked, Evil Breath of an Ogre. He'll know I'm not dead."
"Think, Little Princeling. The curse is activated by killing, not accident nor natural death. You were not killed; you were drowned in the bay. There is no body. Ah, but the fishes of Ahrahtay Bay have eaten royally." Another mating call of the ornigress escaped from Horobah's mouth. "Yet there was proof of your folly, and that proof is now in the hands of your father."
Malik slumped in his chains. "I will escape. I have Powers. Fatherless Deamon!"
"Your Powers are puny, and you know not how to channel them. You think to pit them against my mighty Powers?"
Malik's chains rattled again as he jerked upright. Horobah apparently had efficient spies and informants in Rijarik, perhaps in the Dominus castle itself. It was true; although Malik had his geaster, his magical birth-amulet, his powers were just beginning to assert themselves. Over the years, he had received some informal instruction on how to deal with magic, but had not yet received his formal training. That was to commence upon return from his trek.
"My Powers will grow. I will destroy you, Grunt of a Peasant's Sty," Malik shouted.
Horobah's eyes seemed to sizzle like a hot poker set to ice. And they're not just thawing, Malik thought, they're coming to boil, steaming. He knows I will become a threat, and it worries him.
Horobah lifted a bony arm and pointed a long, dirty finger at Malik. "You shall have Power, Impotent Princelet. You shall name your own poison."
"I promise I will destroy you," Malik shouted. "I will find a way, you mangy she-dog!"
Malik felt a dizziness, a weakness. His surroundings blurred and leached of color. Rubbing his eyes, he crumpled to the floor and writhed in cadence to the rhythm of the pain pulsing through his body. Gradually the pain eased. But his eyes! He rubbed at them. It felt strange. He looked at his hands--paws. Paws!
The mating call of the ornigress again issued from the dais. "Impotent princekin to bitch dog. How fitting. But your choice of mangy she-dog is not only fitting; it is perfect. You have solved my problem. How, Princelet, will you now escape? How will you invoke your growing powers without voicing them?"
Malik's angry retort emerged as a furious growl. Lunging forward, he realized his chains had slipped from his thin canine limbs. Free! He leaped onto the dais, growling his rage.
"Away, you mangy cur!" Horobah yelled, kicking at him.
Malik latched onto the leg coming at him and sunk his fangs into it. Horobah doubled his fist and slammed it into the top of Malik's head. Malik involuntarily released his grip on the leg. Horobah let fly with another kick, connecting with Malik's ribs. Searing pain flashed through his body. Another kick connected. Malik fell from the dais.
"Prentice! Get in here!" were the last words Malik heard as his vision darkened and silence descended.
No comments:
Post a Comment