Dark One Rising(94)

The closer he got, the stronger the smell of death hit him. He gagged once, swallowing back the stench, trying hard not to breathe through his nose. When he entered the city through the gates, the scene stunned him. Most of the buildings were in ruin, scorch marks scarring what used to be pristine white outer walls. Doors hung askew on hinges, lush windowsill gardens were nothing but scorched weeds.

He walked down the streets, looking for anything that would give him proof of who was behind this. He was not optimistic; there wasn’t much left. The echoes of horse hooves on the cobbled streets bounced off the crumbling walls of what was once a fairly prosperous city, nestled on the banks of the great Elanorrah Lake. Travelers would come down river to trade and purchase supplies before moving across the open land to the south or east. Now almost deserted, it housed only about fifteen-hundred people, merchants and tavern owners who refused to move on. A few traders still preferred the river entrance to a trek across land from the Tiernan Sea in the southwest. The fees from the toll up river near Barden kept most from passing through. Those coming into Azlyn from the sea chose instead to sell their wares in Pembroke or Boones Ferry in the east end of the province. Usually the city was clean and taken care of, but today it was entirely different. A different city sat before him now.

Down another street he had to skirt a dead man that was lying in the road, the body bent in some weird contortion. When he rounded a corner, he was met with a crossbow pointed at his head. He stopped his horse in its tracks and looked down at his aggressor.

It was a young man, maybe eighteen or nineteen, his simple tunic torn and smeared with blood, his leggings soiled. His brown hair was limp, and a recently healed cut on his forehead was crusted with blood. His eyes were large, his mouth tight in an angry snarl. He was shaking. Alek was afraid he would loose the arrow by accident simply from unsteady hands. Alek didn’t speak, afraid that anything he said would set the youth off. He simply raised his hands in surrender and waited.

“Come back for more, eh?”

“Take it easy, son, I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Save it. I know you’ve come to pick off the rest of us, but you won’t take me alive.” He raised the crossbow higher, finger hovering over the trigger.

If Alek didn’t settle this kid down, he might just find another hole in his head, and he had as many as he needed. “I swear on His Majesty, King Dainard Llewelyn Grayson of Azlyn, that I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to see the devastation and report it to the king himself. Put down your weapon. I won’t harm you.”

The youth lowered his bow. Alek could tell from his stance and the expression on his face, however, that he was still not entirely confident that he would live out the day but hoped that this stranger was telling the truth. Alek looked down at him and smiled, trying to make the boy relax so they could talk. He lifted his hands away from his sword and held them up in front of him in a surrendering gesture again, then spoke, “I’m going to dismount now. When I get to the ground, I’ll let you have my sword as a gesture of trust. Do we have an accord?”

The boy eyed him some more, then nodded. Alec dismounted and slowly removed his sword from his scabbard, handing it to the youth hilt first. The boy dropped the bow and arrow, grabbed the sword, and held it out toward Alek.

“My name is Alekzand’r Morgan or Alek to my friends. I work for the king. What’s your name, son?”

The kid hesitated, then answered, “Maddon Ellbert.”

A look of recognition crossed Alek’s face at the name. He rubbed his chin and looked down at the boy. “Ellbert. Are you any relation to Nalo?”

The boy looked surprised. “He was my grandfather.”

“I know your grandfather well, Maddon. He and I served in the king’s army for a time. Is he well?”

“He’s dead!”

Alek was taken aback by the boys declaration. “What happened?”

The boy lowered the sword slightly but didn’t change his stance. Alek knew he needed more reassurance. He started to reach into his pocket, but the boy reacted, pulling the sword higher, inches from Alek’s throat.

“Whoa, son. I’m only going to reach into my pocket and give you something that will prove that who I say I am is the truth. Calm down.”

The sword point stayed where it was. Alek reached into his pocket slowly, to not scare the kid into running him through. He pulled out a small square medallion hanging on a chain, stamped with the king’s logo, and handed it to the boy. The boy grabbed the medallion with one hand, while still holding the sword to Alek’s neck with the other, and looked at it.