Dexter of Pozzelby Read online

  It was difficult to even imagine what rare treasures would be found in there today.

  Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t realize that we had stopped.

  “We’ll camp here until nightfall,” Myrick said.

  “Myrick, what about Earl Olanan? Surely he would assist us?” I asked.

  “Possibly. The earl has always impressed me as an intelligent and loyal man. However, until we know who is responsible for the attacks I don’t want to risk exposure by going through the Town of Litford to the earl’s home. These rocky overhangs create natural shelter, will hide us, and are defensible. We’re safer camping.”

  Too tired to argue, I laid out my bedroll and was asleep in minutes.

  Sometime later, I awoke. I could hear Myrick talking to Porknoy and Francis.

  “What do you know of these Blackthorn Huntsmen?” Francis asked.

  “Not a lot,” Myrick answered. “Years ago, I fought at the Battle of Willshy’s Field in Pulgh. The Blackthorn Huntsmen fought on the other side. Mercenary fighters, I thought. Since then, I have heard bits and pieces that indicate that they are a sect that has been in existence for at least two hundred years. But about their origins I know nothing. I do know that they are fierce fighters, with great strength and endurance, but nothing that I have ever seen or heard would indicate that they possess sorcery.”

  “Then someone else has decided to take out the Davin line,” said Francis. “What about Grimwulf Morbrick? As it stands, he has the strongest claim to the throne after Dexter.”

  “Maybe, we can’t discount anything. Duke Grimwulf would love to get out of Bleakmoor and assume the throne. I think he might seize an opportunity if it crossed his path, but he has always struck me as a straight forward individual, not a schemer. He’s more of a blunt instrument. He might attack if he thought he could win, but plan an assassination? I don’t know,” Myrick said.

  “I checked our back trail and don’t think anyone is following,” Porknoy said.

  “And I saw no signs of the huntsmen when I scouted around Litford,” added Myrick.

  “Do you have any ideas about who might have conjured the withsperi?” asked Francis.

  “Not yet. I was sleeping next to Ardwulf’s tent when the attack came. There was screaming but no one knew what was happening at first. We were camped on the lee side of Fat Crone Mountain. The shadow asps came in from the west. They ran through the guards and killed any who got in the way. I dispatched one. My sword was crafted in Shei and is no ordinary weapon. It could hurt the shadow monsters, but most of our weapons were useless. While I was engaged with one, several more got by me. The attack lasted less than five minutes.

  “There are a handful that I know of in Pozzelby who might have pulled off the summoning. Shadow magic can be a dangerous thing and it takes an adept. There could be others that we don’t know of who might be responsible. Or a foreign adept for that matter. I don’t know yet.”

  I sat up and the conversation stopped. I wasn’t sure why, an adult habit around children, I guessed. But I was thirteen, nearly an adult, and I was king, even if I didn’t feel like one. I should know everything about what had happened. I wasn’t much of a fighter, but I was pretty good at solving puzzles.

  “Don’t stop because of me. When we get to Pozzelby Castle, I’m going to want to know everything. It’s the only way that I’ll be able to help.”

  Myrick nodded. “Of course, we shouldn’t shelter you. But now we should get moving. It will be night soon. We’ll travel under the cover of darkness.”

  “And hope that there are no shadow monsters about,” I thought.

  The terrain in Litford was rolling farmland dotted with thick woods. Fields of cotton, corn and beans, with grazing land for cattle were most prominent. We stayed off the roads, using the farmer’s paths instead.

  The land became hillier the closer we got to Pozzelby Castle. Just before dawn, I noted a change in the air; it became cooler and I smelled water. Soon, I could hear frogs in the distance.

  “Lake Marie is just ahead,” Myrick said. “The castle is about ten miles from here on the western shore, while the town of Dunlevy sits on the southeastern shore. It will be light soon. Everyone stay alert.”

  We moved slowly and stayed away from the lakeshore. Things went well, until we were about one mile from the castle.

  The sun crested the horizon in the east and the first rays came over the lake and lit up the castle. It reminded me of a gigantic, bloated spider more than anything else; a massive body crouched at the foot of the mountain, with arms going off in all directions and towers, like spiny hairs, protruding out in great numbers. It made Earmund Castle look like a peasant’s hovel.

  But the sunlight also revealed trouble. My untrained eyes did not see it, but Myrick saw something and he made us stop immediately.

  “What did you see?” Corporal Porknoy asked in a whisper?

  “Movement where there should be none. Huntsmen I’d wager, in the woods off of the main road. I know of a secret way into the castle. Let’s try for it.”

  He led us further away from the lake, along a winding path. The woods were thick, but there were ways through. They were hard to spot, but Myrick knew them well. Hopefully, the Blackthorn Huntsmen did not.

  It was hot and the air was full of mosquitoes when we reached our destination—a low, thorny hillock in the middle of the dense woods. There was an overhang, hidden by low hanging weeds. We passed through and I saw that there was a door, large enough for our horses, though barely. Myrick pressed what looked like any other rock embedded in the hillock and I heard a grinding sound as the door slid open.

  I peered into the darkness beyond. A huge pair of eyes stared back out at me.

  Chapter Two

  Pozzelby Castle is the oldest and, by far, the largest castle on the continent. Its haphazard appearance is due to the tradition of every new monarch making their own addition. In fact, the castle, built both around and into Mount Crowl, is so large that an estimated four-fifths of it is unused. Over half of it has been sealed for centuries, leading many to speculate as to what treasures might be found in its depths, as well as dangers...

  Excerpted from J. R. Grimble’s Pozzelby: A History

  “What do you want?” asked a shrill voice attached to the eyes.

  Everyone jumped; several reached for weapons. Myrick held out a restraining hand.

  “It’s alright. Brin, what are you doing here? It isn’t safe.”

  “I can be here if I want to be here. I live here,” the voice said. The eyes moved forward and I could see that they belonged to a girl, my age or just slightly younger. Her eyes had appeared so large, I saw now, because she was wearing a pair of very round and very thick eye glasses. Furthermore, her hair was flat brown and full of cobwebs, while the rest of her was as pale as milk. Looking at her, I got the impression of perpetual sulking.

  “It isn’t safe to be here now,” Myrick insisted. “You’ll have to come back to the castle with us.”

  Brin pouted and seemed to hunch in on herself, but she fell into step at the rear of our party. Periodically, I turned back and would catch a glimpse of the two luminescent orbs that were her eyes, reflected in the torchlight.

  I looked with interest at the tunnel itself. It was wide enough for two men with horses to walk abreast. The walls were rough hewn with wooden bracings placed periodically. If I judged rightly, we were already in or under the mountain, so I hoped that those beams did their job. We passed several doors, some wooden, some metal. Each looked sturdy and appeared to have not been used for a long time. All of the doors were barred from our side and a few boasted some truly monstrous padlocks.

  “Those go into the old parts of the castle,” said a voice from right beside me. I was surprised to see Brin beside me. I hadn’t noticed her moving up from the rear. She continued talking, oblivious to my consternation. “The doors have to be barred like
that, because things have broken into the old parts from underneath the mountain.”

  I did not like the sound of that. “What sort of things?”

  Brin shrugged. “Things. You know, monsters—goblins, demons, trolls, those sorts of things.”

  “How do you know all of this?”

  “Everyone knows. But I’ve seen them. I go into the old parts all of the time. I’ve seen plenty of monsters. Not always, but a few times—well...once.”

  “Why do you go if there are monsters?” I wanted to know.

  “To be alone, to play, to think. There are too many people in the new parts of the castle and not enough children. And the children that there are, I don’t like.”

  “So you risk you life to play?”

  “It isn’t dangerous for me. Monsters don’t scare me. I’m a witch you know.”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t realize.”

  “Of course you didn’t. You aren’t very smart,” she said, matter-of-factly. “I suppose that you can’t help it. You are a boy.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing. It’s just been my experience that boys tend to not be very smart.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, then shut it when I found myself at a loss for something to say.

  Eventually, I just said, “I’m Dexter.”

  “Yes, very nice. Pleased to meet you probably. Now if you don’t mind, I’m terribly busy. I have very important things to think about, incantations and such.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  I stayed silent for the rest of the walk.

  The tunnel eventually ended at a green, battered, oaken door. We passed through the door and came out into what appeared to be a comfortably appointed lounge. It was dimly lit, but I could see that four guards were stationed near the far door. A small fire in the lone fireplace warmed the room and provided the light. I could make out a sumptuous chair and sofa near the fireplace. The other side of the green door through which we had come, on this side, appeared to be no more that a section of wood paneling. Animal heads lined the walls and they took on something of a fearsome mien in the low light cast by the fire. My uncle had been a hunter, I reminded myself.

  Myrick greeted the guards curtly. We exited the room, horses and all, into the widest hall that I had ever seen. It was three times as wide as one of our corridors in Earmund and seemed like it was full of more people than we’d had in our entire castle. Other corridors just as wide or nearly so branched off in all directions. From where I was standing, I could see no less than three separate sets of stairs up and down. And that was just one hallway.

  Our appearance was noted immediately. While I felt certain that no one knew who I was, nor Francis or any of our guards, everyone knew Myrick. Apparently, word of Ardwulf’s tragic death had made its way back to the castle and there was almost a palpable sense of bewilderment amongst the residents. Myrick’s return was a source of speculation and reassurance in equal parts. People stared. People whispered. Myrick ignored them.

  He located an older man whose actual age I couldn’t approximate. The man was easy to pick out as he was wearing a gaudy, yellow hat that was three feet high. The man had a crooked eye. One eye looked at Myrick, one seemed to look at me or Francis, I couldn’t tell. He had a removed, distracted air that made me wonder if he wasn’t slightly touched.

  “Doctor Ahem, have you seen the castellan?” asked Myrick.

  “Hmm? Oh yes, hmm. Well, I should think that he would be in the—that is to say that I saw him last in the audience chamber. But he was leaving, said he was off to the war room to meet with the advisors. I say, it has been a most trying day. We’ve received some terrible news, just horrible. Is it true then? Ardwulf is dead?”

  “I am afraid so, Doctor. It was an attack, and there may be more. I need for you to be prepared. Make sure the infirmary is ready. There may be work for you soon.”

  The old doctor sputtered some, but nodded. “Yes, err, I’ll just go on then. Don’t worry. You can rely on me, no worries.”

  Doctor Ahem walked right by me and disappeared around the corner. Myrick led on. Shortly, he saw a group of four young men and they took our horses from us (and took them outside to a stable, I hoped). Though the corridors were crowded, everyone moved aside to let us through. We passed through a set of double doors that bore the royal crest, also the crest of the House of Davin, a gold griffon on a green field. Four guards stood outside in the green and gold of the castle guard. They came to attention as we approached and we passed them unchallenged.

  This part of the castle was less populated. It was obviously an area utilized by the king and his upper level staff. Guards were stationed at each door and the royal crest was displayed in every conference room and carpeted hallway we passed through. Finally, we arrived at an unadorned door where Myrick stopped us and knocked.

  A moment later, a tall man, probably the tallest I had ever seen, and very lean like a Maypole, answered.

  “Myrick, about time.”

  “I would have been here sooner, but of course I had to make a side trip. King Dexter, this is Layred Vu, your castellan.”

  Layred Vu looked me up and down and then bowed.

  “At your service, Sire. This has been a trying time for us here, but I am sure that it has been even more trying for you. I will help you in every way possible to adjust to your new duties.”

  “Thank you,” I said, stifling a yawn.

  “Myrick, there will be much for all of us to do. But right now, perhaps it would be best if King Dexter were taken to the royal suite and allowed to refresh,” Layred Vu said. “I believe that Tayu is in her office.”

  One of the castle guards was dispatched and returned a few minutes later accompanied by a red-haired woman with a gentle smile.

  “King Dexter,” she said. “My name is Tayu. I am in charge of all of the domestic matters at Pozzelby Castle. If you will allow me, I will escort you to your chambers.”

  I let her lead me. Porknoy and four of the Earmund soldiers went with us. We stayed in a less populated section of the castle, going up two flights of stairs and then arriving at an ornate door that had the Davin emblem carved in relief and covered in gold leaf. Two guardsmen were outside of the door.

  “This is your suite,” Tayu said, opening the door and leading me in. The guards, including Porknoy waited in the hall.

  It was grand. The first room was a lounge or a study with a fire place, thick rugs, and a magnificent desk to one side, as well as several comfortable looking chairs and sofas. The bedroom was just as large with a bed that was as big as six of my beds back home. There was another fire place here, another desk, some chairs, and a window with a balcony that looked out over Lake Marie. The third room was a salon with a large copper tub.

  “Would you care for a bath now, Sire? I can have water brought and ready in less than ten minutes,” she said.

  It sounded wonderful.

  “Yes, please. A bath would be great.”

  “Very good. If you require anything else, tell the guards at the door. I’ll have some food brought up with the bath water. Is there anything specific that you desire?”

  “No ma’am. Anything would be wonderful.” I had not realized until just then, but I was famished.

  Tayu left and I looked around my rooms. All of Ardwulf’s personal affects had been removed, but the decor remained. Of the various wall decorations, what caught my eye were the paintings. A few were recent. There was a portrait of Ardwulf in the bedroom. He looked younger than I remembered him. Next to it was a portrait of my grandfather, Ardwulf I. I had been a baby when he had died and had no memory of him. But the man in the picture, though older, looked quite a bit like both my father and my uncle.

  The front room contained two portraits that were much older. The first was of a dazzlingly handsome elf. He wore a mirthful expression and was dressed all in black, quite differe
nt from what I understood about the typical fashion choices of elves. The small plaque on the frame read, King Theof the Merry. I recognized the name at once. King Theof was one of Pozzelby’s rulers during the Four Kings period. He was also Pozzelby’s only non-human ruler known in all of its long history. I knew the names of all four. Besides King Theof, there had been King Jeremiah the Wise, King Korric of Angren, and King Coenbrand. Coenbrand had been a Davin, the first to sit on the throne a little over three hundred years ago. That was why I was unsurprised that the largest painting in my suite was of King Coenbrand Davin the Invincible.

  The painting made him look like a giant in full plate armor. He was seated on a griffon. The legend is that he trained a griffon from a chick and rode it into battle, which is why the house of Davin adopted the griffon emblem. In his hand was his famous sword, Harbinger. The blade was like clear glass that had been etched with faint blue runes. It was said to have been a weapon of great power but had been lost since King Coenbrand had died.

  There was some controversy over what became of King Coenbrand. He had been a fierce warrior (though not invincible. I recalled at least two instances where he had been forced from the field or bested in personal combat during the Unified War by one of their champions. Such defeats were rare though.) and prone to going off to remote regions to slay this or smite that. Many people believe he was killed on just such an endeavor. Others claim that he was taken into the service of his patron god, Eridan, and lives on today, still serving his patron. In Pozzelby, it isn’t uncommon to see small shrines erected to Coenbrand, usually near Eridan’s temples.

  As for his sword, those who believe that Coenbrand was killed in some far off place say the sword was lost with him. Others claim he carried it up to the heavens when Eridan collected him. A small faction says it never left the castle, but was hidden in a secret armory said to hold the greatest treasures of the Four Kings.