and simultaneously swung his blade toward Kiln’s left flank. Kiln read the move ahead of time and stepped aside and toward the surprised warrior, ramming his dagger deep into Bomballa’s unprotected stomach as his thin rapier hung uselessly over Kiln’s right shoulder. Kiln was close to Bomballa’s ear as he twisted his long dagger. Bomballa grunted in pain as his eyes opened wide in shock.
“Sorry to ruin your expensive silk,” Kiln whispered into the dying man’s ear. Kiln pulled his blade from Bomballa’s stomach and he fell to the ground with a thud.
He looked up to see Jonas move toward him, his blades red with blood. They both scanned the room as Alerion quickly ran to them, his long robes billowing at his feet.
“Where is the prince?” yelled Kiln over the sound of the roaring flames that surrounded them.
“There,” answered Alerion as he pointed to a corner of the tent blocked off by a hanging crimson tapestry. “We must hurry; the tent is starting to catch on fire.”
Sure enough the flames creating the magic barrier were starting to spread up the tall sides of the tent. All three ran over to the tapestry and flipped it open. Lying on a wooden table was Prince Baylin, completely naked and tied down with thick leather straps. His eyes were closed and he was not moving. He was covered with cuts, bruises, and blood, but it was not those wounds that caused the men to stop in horror and gaze in mute shock, but the grisly wound at his crotch, or at least where his crotch should have been. His manhood was completely cut off, leaving behind a bloody wound.
“In Ulren’s name, look what they did to him,” muttered Alerion.
“Is he still alive?” asked Jonas in horror.
“I don’t know. But it’s time to go, the fire will consume the tent soon and I don’t want to be here when that happens,” the wizard replied.
Kiln quickly cut the straps holding the prince to the table and lifted him over his shoulder. “Get us out of here wizard,” ordered Kiln.
His words went unheard for Alerion was already beginning his spell. Jonas heard the words clearly but then everything became a blur as his head spun. The world went black and they all disappeared from the tent leaving nothing behind but four dead bodies.
***
Malbeck the Dark One sat casually on the Tarsinian throne. The magnificent chair was made of white stone that looked to be carved from one piece of rock. It was simple, large, and powerful, a fitting chair for the king of Tarsis, a warrior king of tremendous size and strength.
But King Kromm was somewhere in the Tundrens, running for his life, and Malbeck, the destroyer of Tarsis, sat on the white throne; the darkness of his very presence was in stark contrast to the white marble.
Malbeck, too, was a large man, over eight feet tall, but thin and muscular, with short, glossy black hair that draped a hard chiseled face. His eyes were pure white, which made it difficult to gaze at him without looking away. His lips had a bluish tinge to them, like the rest of his body, as if he were perpetually cold, and his teeth came to sharp points. He wore tight black breeches made from the skin of a black dragon. The black thick leather boots he wore were plated with dark steel. His muscled chest and arms were bare and he wore a black cloak that framed his huge shoulders and fanned out to cover most of the throne.
He was a demonoid, part man and part demon, twisted by the magic of the Forsworn. In his right hand he held the Spear of Gould, a powerful weapon given to him by his master, Gould the Tormentor. The shaft was made from light steel, polished black. The tip was a sharp silver point about as long as a man’s forearm. At the base of the spear tip was a round disk the size of a large fist, and engraved in the middle of this disk was the white eye of Gould.
In Malbeck’s left hand he held a small book bound with old worn leather, the Shan Cemar, the ancient elven text that held the secrets for tapping into the energy of the Ru’Ach. Whoever held the book held vast amounts of power, power that Malbeck planned to use as he spread the Forsworn’s darkness across Kraawn.
Leaning against the white throne of Tarsis was Malbeck’s battle-axe. The twin blades