The Mad King (Stoneblood Saga Book 6) Read online

  THE MAD KING

  STONEBLOOD SAGAS: Book 6

  Copyright

  The Mad King© copyright 2018 Robyn Wideman

  Published: Dec 2018

  Publisher: Magicblood Media Corp

  Cover Art by Vanesa Garkova

  1

  Raze

  “You’re all bloody incompetent. I should kill every single one of you worthless idiots!”

  Raze heard the magically amplified voice of Lord Zellox booming through the wide, black hallway of the Giant’s Den as he ran toward the massive theater in the middle of the fortress. I don’t want to miss this, he thought and picked up the pace. Their esteemed overlord enjoyed making a spectacle of berating failed commanders and from the sounds of it, more than one was going to feel his vengeance this time.

  As he reached the upper-level hallway of the theater, he heard a deep rumble from inside the assembly hall. Raze could feel unbridled excitement building in his gut. Something big was happening.

  “Commander Gartha, you had one job. Tell me what that job was,” Lord Zellox demanded. He liked to make these kinds of things public, as a warning to all his people to not cross him. “Speak into the orb so all may hear your shame.”

  Raze found there was only standing room left in the packed assembly hall but pushed his way between two Decarion mages to get a better view of the circular stage three levels below.

  “Hey, you little shit,” one of the mages said as Raze pushed passed him. “Get to the back.”

  Raze felt a hand briefly touch his shoulder and his own went immediately to the poisoned dagger hanging from his belt.

  “What are you doing, stupid?” the other mage said, grabbing his friend’s hand. “Look at his uniform. Can’t you see he’s a Redfinger lieutenant?”

  “Oh shit. I’m very sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  Raze turned to look at the man who was twice his age and covered with ceremonial tattoos. He knew the mage could probably beat him in an open fight with the use of elemental magic, but he also knew the mage wouldn’t dare stand up against one of Lord Zellox’s personal vengeance squad. He eyed the mage silently until he saw beads of sweat form on his shaved and inked scalp. With practiced ease, Raze held the hard glare until just a moment before the mage would have broken down, then leaned in with a menacing grin.

  “I will let it go this time, mage, but dare not cross me again or you will personally find out why the Redfingers are so feared.” Raze kept his voice low and calm, which made it even more intimidating.

  “Thank you, sir.” The mage dipped his head as a sign of respect, not yet daring to breathe a sigh of relief. “Please let me know if there is anything I, or one of my order, can do for you.”

  Raze nodded and looked at the other mage, who quickly mirrored his friend’s show of respect. “I would anyway, regardless of your offer,” Raze growled harshly, though inside he wanted to burst out laughing. I learned from the best, he thought as he turned back to watch Lord Zellox doing the same to the group of ten commanders lined up in front of him.

  “So, Commander Gartha. You say you’re in charge of our activities in Morthon, yet I’m told Morthon has broken off ties with us since the Baltans were able to so easily escape their grasp. Their new leader has chosen to hire mages from the east in lieu of our esteemed Decarion brethren.”

  A murmur ran through the assembly. The Decarions were popular among the native, non-slave populace of Korazon’s capital, most of whom were occupying the benches of the theater.

  Commander Gartha lifted a small, white orb to his lips quickly so he wouldn’t get scolded again and magically amplified himself, clearing his throat. His face went bright red before fading quickly to pale white. “I’m sure with more aggressive negotiations, I would be able to bring them back.”

  One of the other commanders confidently stepped forward, but Raze couldn’t tell which one, as they all wore similar uniforms. Then the man spoke, and he knew immediately from the nasally tone it was Commander Roggart, who controlled the activity in Southern Solotine.

  “If I may, Lord Zellox,” Commander Roggart said with his nose in the air. “I would gladly lend Commander Gartha some competent assistance in this matter. As you know, I have a reputation for excellence in aggressive negotiations.”

  Lord Zellox turned to gaze at Commander Roggart who, to his benefit, remained admirably confident until a shimmering green orb hit him in the chest. The pulsing green orb pushed its way through the front of his uniform, and he fell to his knees, gasping for breath. Lord Zellox turned back to Commander Gartha and said, “I’ll come back to you.”

  Raze chuckled. “This is definitely getting good,” he said and flashed a genuinely friendly smile to the first Decarion mage, who returned the smile with a nervous one of his own.

  Lord Zellox moved to the middle of the circular stage, spread his arms wide to show the magic fading from his fingertips, and addressed the assembly.

  “My beloved people. In the twenty-five years we have been together, have you ever known me to pass unfair, unthoughtful judgment?”

  As Lord Zellox dropped his arms and waited for the response, Raze could see two magical amplification orbs sewn directly to the lapel of the overlord’s magnificent robe.

  “First, let’s put aside the fact Commander Roggart presumed to tell me what I know. He had the audacity to step forward and lie to us—all of us—about his level of competence.” A grin crossed the lips of Lord Zellox as the assembly booed the man choking to death on his knees. “This man believes—oh, I guess I should say believed—that he is somehow more competent than our Commander Gartha here, yet the population of Balta—the entire population of Balta—managed to slip through and establish a whole new kingdom of Tarnstead.”

  Boos rose from the assembly until the entire congregation joined in. Lord Zellox allowed it to swell for a moment, then lifted his arms for silence, which he immediately got.

  “Now, my people, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that this lapse in judgment completely goes against what we are trying to accomplish. What is our goal?” Zellox put his hand to his ear.

  “World domination!” The roar from the assembly was deafening. A lump of pride swelled in Raze’s throat as he shouted at the top of his lungs.

  Lord Zellox smiled wide, exposing two rows of gnarled yellow teeth. “That’s right, my people. Korazon will soon have room to grow, but our goals can only be accomplished by discarding the deadweight which holds us back.” He pointed to the now-lifeless body of Commander Roggart and another cheer went up.

  Raze was sure his throat would be raw for days after.

  “Commander Gartha,” Lord Zellox said, turning quickly toward the man, who instinctively jumped back as if the look could harm him.

  Raze laughed. “You’re in for it now, buddy.” He was glad he had made it to the theater for the good stuff but was upset for not arriving earlier to get a better vantage point.

  “You are a pure-blooded Karazonian, so I will give you the opportunity to explain yourself and perhaps save your pathetic, worthless life.”

  “Thank you, Lord Zellox.” Gartha fell to his knees to grovel. “I want to start by saying how sorry—”

  “Stop right there,” Lord Zellox said, holding up a hand. “I think it would be fun for our people to have a little comparison of their leadership. You, the man who is supposedly overseeing the whole of north Mithbea, and me, their beloved father.” He spun around to look at the congregation. “What do you all think?”

  Another roaring cheer went up, as the entire assembly seemed to vibrate with excitement. Raze was sure he could hear the cheer coming from outside as well, as the magic
al amplification orbs allowed the whole fortress, as well as all of Korazon, to listen in.

  “I will go first,” Zellox said. “Let me see…” He made a show of rubbing his chin, as if trying to make a recollection. “Over the last two weeks, I orchestrated the death of the leader of dragons—was everyone aware those terrible wyrms of myth and legend have returned from exile? Well, they have, and I killed their alpha.”

  Raze braced himself for another roaring cheer, but this time it didn’t come. Instead, there was a mixture of confused excitement and the murmur of “dragons are real?” Being a Redfinger, he had known about the return of dragons to the world for some time, but for many of the ordinary citizens, it was new, seemingly unbelievable information.

  “That’s right, my people. You heard me. I, your beloved Lord Zellox, caused the death of the leader of dragons. Clearly, some of you are baffled by the news, but rest assured, you will soon reap the benefits of my actions. But that’s not all I’ve done. Who wants to hear the rest?”

  A deafening cheer.

  “Ah, there’s that spirit I love and demand,” Lord Zellox said with a squinty grin. “Not only did I kill the alpha dragon, but I’ve also acquired an army”—he turned sharply to look at Gartha—“something you happened to lose in the meantime.”

  Gartha bowed down and rested his head on the stage floor as a sign of respect, but Raze knew it was just to save face and hide the fact he was crying.

  “Too late for that, Gartha,” Raze said laughingly as he watched the spectacle of the two leaders being punished for their failures as they so rightly deserved. Failure wasn’t an option for the armies of Lord Zellox. Raze turned and slapped the two mages on the back. “Am I right, boys?”

  “Yes, sir, you are,” the second mage said cautiously.

  “Oh, come on, guys. Let’s put the unpleasantness behind us. Tell me he’s not going to get what’s coming to him?”

  The first mage was still on edge and eyed Raze suspiciously, but the second mage grinned and said, “Yes, sir. I know exactly what he’s got coming to him,” and thrust his fist upwards.

  Raze laughed and slapped them both on the back again. “Yeah, that’s the spirit!” He turned his attention back to the assembly hall stage, not wanting to miss anything.

  Lord Zellox’s voice boomed through the packed audience. “It’s your turn, Commander Gartha. Tell the people what you’ve done over the last two weeks.”

  Gartha remained prostrate. “Please forgive me,” could be heard as his sobs were amplified by his orb.

  Lord Zellox bent over and shouted into the man’s ear. “You’re pathetic.” Then he turned to address the assembly. “This man is a husk of his old self. He was a hero years ago. A role model for your children. But living with the savages of Mithbea clouded his mind and tempted him away from my teachings, leaving this—” He thrust his finger at Gartha, which sparked a rousing boo from the assembly.

  “Oh, it’s about to get even better,” Raze said excitedly as he noticed little green sparks around the hands of Lord Zellox.

  Zellox clasped his hands, lifted them, and dropped them down as if he were swinging an invisible hammer. An explosion of green sparks struck Gartha and he burst into flame. The man’s agonized screams could be heard through his orb, but they were mostly drowned out by the raucous cheering from the congregation.

  “Let this be a warning to you all,” Lord Zellox shouted as the cheering abated. He pointed a finger at the eight other commanders who occupied the stage. “Failure will not be tolerated when the safety and glory of Korazon are at stake. We will not stand for it.” He paused for the cheering to die down again. “Now, we are short two commanders. Is there any among you who wish to apply for the job?”

  A hush fell over the assembly. No one wanted to make a sound in case it was interpreted by Lord Zellox as an offer to step into the dangerous roles. All except one.

  “Me. I’ll do it.”

  A low murmur spread through the congregation as the people twisted, looking for the one stupid, brave person who shouted out.

  Horrified, the two Decarion mages jumped back from the lunatic wedged between them.

  “Look up here, Lord Zellox!” Raze shouted so he could be heard on the stage three levels below. He waved his arms wildly as he hung over the railing of the balcony. “Me, me, me. Pick me!”

  2

  Nathan

  Nathan Stoneblood gripped the railing as the Lady of the Night crashed through a large wave, which sent a wall of water washing over the deck.

  “Batten down the hatches! Flash squall closing in.”

  Nathan heard the shout but had no idea where it came from or what it meant, nor did he really care, because his only concern was remaining on the deck of the merchant ship. I should’ve stayed in the cabin, he thought as he clung to the railing with all his might.

  “Hold still, you big baby,” Hanna Halfblood said, tying a length of rope around his waist. She was having no trouble walking around with the ship bucking beneath her feet. “If you lose your grip, this will make sure we don’t lose you in the drink.”

  Nathan was terrified of being lost at sea. “You better not lose me,” he said to his distant Stoneblood cousin, who bore the name Halfblood as a trophy rather than the slight it was meant to be. “I just met my first dragon, and I don’t want it to be my last.”

  “Don’t worry, Nathan,” Hanna said with a warm smile. She checked his knot, untied it, and retied the rope with a stronger knot. “I can’t promise you’ll ever see another dragon, but I can promise to get you back to land safely.”

  “I trust you,” Nathan said. “Actually, I really enjoy the thrill, but the extra precaution is appreciated.”

  “I figured you weren’t averse to a little excitement,” Hanna said with a laugh. “I’ll have the boys keep an eye on you. See you on the other side.”

  Nathan braced as a large wave struck the side of the boat. His feet lost their purchase and washed out beneath him, but his iron strong cross grip on the railing kept him in place. It had been a few weeks since he’d tended a forge or struck an anvil, so it felt good to exercise his muscles. As he clung for dear life to the railing of the boat, he thought it might’ve been a little presumptuous to test himself against the forces of nature.

  The Lady of the Night passed through the squall in a matter of minutes, but to Nathan, it seemed like it took an eternity. When the ship finally hit calmer waters, he collapsed on the deck, clutching his burning forearms to his chest.

  “Was that enough thrill for you?” Hanna said, her face beaming as she enjoyed his misery.

  A few crewmen joined in with her laughter, but it was friendly at heart. They were all impressed by his feat of strength and told him so in one way or another.

  “King Parth can’t kill him so he’s trying to do it himself,” Rayan said.

  Nathan looked over to see his other friends coming out of the port door. “You need to live a little,” he said as he accepted his friend’s outstretched hand. “And I’m sure Parth isn’t done trying to kill me yet. He’s really gone crazy. I don’t know how long he can keep Tarnstead together.”

  Kiana, the youngest of the group and their thief, stepped forward. “He’s lost the east for sure. There is no way his scattered forces would be able to withstand the armies from the east. Guaranteed they’ve pushed him back to Bellmore, if not Tarrin.”

  “I’m just glad to be away from all that right now,” Nathan said. “The trip back to Elderwood will be a nice change of pace, for a while, anyway.”

  “Theron will be excited to see you again,” Hanna said. “He’s not always forthcoming about his feelings, but I know he misses your father greatly and he can see Soron when he looks at you. It makes him happy.”

  Nathan nodded. King Theron Stoneblood, his grandfather who he’d only recently gotten to know, was a good man, but his people held strong distrust of magic-users, limiting his ability to see his grandfather. It was something he was working on changing.
With luck, one day all of Solotine would see magic not as something to be feared but revered. “As I’m sure your mother will be happy to see you,” Nathan said. “Speaking of, when do you think we’ll arrive in Irontide?”

  Hanna pointed ahead to the horizon. “Don’t you see it? It’s right there! We’ll be there by nightfall.”

  Nathan squinted, but all he could see was ocean. “Are you trying to trick me?”

  Hanna groaned. “You’re really not built for sailing. You’ll see it soon enough.”

  Sure enough, by noon Nathan could clearly see they were approaching land, and by midafternoon, he could see the telltale shape of buildings erected near the shore.

  “I’m excited to meet your mother,” Nathan said to Hanna. “There aren’t very many Stonebloods left. It’ll be nice to get to know all sides of the family.”

  “Grandfather Thorodd would approve of you,” she replied. “I mean—he does approve of you.” Hanna chuckled at her mistake. “He’s told me he does. I just meant he would fight next to you if he were still alive.”

  Nathan had never met the brother of his grandfather Theron; he’d died at the hands of Katla, Hanna’s companion and friend, a story that Nathan had been surprised to learn. “How often do you talk to him through your spiritstone?”

  “Only sometimes,” Hanna said and shrugged. “Whenever I need sound advice. He’s usually the best one to ask first. Even for me, talking to the spirits isn’t an everyday thing. It’s far easier for them to guide me in simpler things like fighting than it is having a conversation. That’s why lunar events are so powerful. They amplify the connection to the spirit world.”

  Nathan felt a pang of jealousy as he thought about Ava. He touched the spiritstone on his own necklace. He knew the last time they talked was likely their last but how wonderful it would be if he could again. Move on, she’d said. He thought about Camille Vos, the beautiful girl he’d met in the west. She made him feel like he could move on. Ava approved of her, but he was still having a hard time with it, though he wouldn’t mind if she moved to Elderwood now that her mother was a teacher at the magic school.