Meet the SOUL FORGE characters-week 4: The Villain
Scene: The emperor of the Kraidic empire frets over his imminent meeting with the infamous sorcerer, Helleden Misenthorpe.
Emperor Krakus paced about his palatial tent awaiting his audience with the sorcerer—the one referred to as the Stygian Lord. Krakus stroked his greying brown beard as it rested upon his massive breastplate—the gleaming metal exposed between the opening in the top of his fur cloak. He perspired more than the temperature called for.
Rumour reached him that Helleden would demand he remain behind, serving as the sorcerer’s rear guard. Sorcerer or no, Krakus wasn’t about to deny his legions their chance for battle and the spoils of the southlands. If that was Helleden’s intent, the sorcerer had another think coming.
Krakus looked to the two naked women sprawled upon the fur blankets of his travel pallet, and scowled. Even they weren’t enough to lift his spirits. With a snarl, he ordered them out.
They looked up at him questioningly. When they didn’t move fast enough, he roared, “Now!”
They jumped with a squeal, quickly wrapped themselves in whatever cloth they could find, and bolted through the tent flaps. A series of whistles sounded from outside.
On the far side of the tent sat an enormous man. The grim look on the red beard’s face matched that of his father. Karvus absently stared at the colossal battle-axe set on the table before him. Several rings twinkled upon sausage-sized fingers as he stroked the large heads of two massive, black dogs.
Krakus stopped in front of his son. “Who does this sorcerer think he is? Telling Krakus the Kraken what he can and cannot do?”
If Karvus thought the question was anything but rhetorical he didn’t let on.
Krakus shook his head, not for the first time. “If he even begins to waggle his fingers in my presence, I’ll shove them up his arse.”
The tent flaps parted, causing him to jump.
Immediately the dogs were on their feet, heads low, fangs bared, growling. Karvus issued a command and they settled down again, but their attention never left the newcomer.
A black-bearded Kraidic warrior stepped inside, carrying a large war-hammer, his girth no less that of the two men in the tent. Dropping to a knee with the large metal head of his weapon resting on a black throw rug at his feet, he cast his eyes to the ground. “Helleden comes off the mountain, my emperor. He’ll be here shortly.”
Krakus looked less than pleased. “How many are with him?”
“His self is all, my emperor.”
“He comes alone? Into my camp?”
“Seems the way of it, my emperor.”
Krakus turned away and started pacing again, the kneeling man’s presence forgotten.
The man swallowed, daring to look up. His gaze fell on Karvus, who dismissed him with a nod.
Karvus got to his feet to retrieve a flagon of wine from a central table laden with food and drink. He would have to pour his own drink now that his father had kicked the women out.
Resuming his seat, he drank in silence. Watching. He had never seen his father so preoccupied. Even when those misfits known as the Band of Five, or something stupid like that, had forced the emperor to withdraw his troops from Zephyr’s southern coast, Krakus hadn’t seemed this upset. Karvus was but a boy then, but he remembered it well. The emperor, his father, had backed down from a fight. That wasn’t the Kraidic way.
“Who is this sorcerer anyway? Does he drink wine? Or eat? Anything?” Krakus muttered more to himself than Karvus. He spun on his son. “Well?”
Karvus shrugged, taking a big gulp from his goblet. Wiping his lips on his wrist he said, “I imagine he must. He is not dead. Is he?”
Krakus glowered. You could never be sure with sorcerers. Shaking his head, he muttered, “If he doesn’t mind himself, he’s going to end up that way.”
The raucous noise of Kraidic camp life fell away outside the pavilion. The silence thundered the implication. Helleden approached.
The tent flaps pushed in again. The same man entered, taking a knee.
“My emperor. The sorcerer stands outside.”
The dogs jumped to their feet, snarling. This time Karvus let them pull at the heavy chains lashing them to an iron stake in the ground. Stretching the tightness from his neck, he stood, his mighty weapon in hand.
“Bring him in, you fool,” Krakus demanded.
“Yes, my emperor.”
The warrior pulled aside a flap and issued orders to unseen men outside.
Flanked by two Kraidic pikemen as big as Karvus, Helleden Misenthorpe strolled into the pavilion and stopped when the pikemen motioned for him to do so.
Krakus straightened to his full height, taking in the gaunt sorcerer, the man’s slight body clad in black robes festooned with crimson runes. For someone with such a high reputation, the sallow-faced man wasn’t intimidating at all. It was all Krakus could do not to laugh. He looked at his son.
Karvus didn’t seem amused.
“You’re a brave man to demand an audience with me,” the emperor said.
Helleden raised an eyebrow.
“Where is your entourage?”
Helleden shrugged.
“Nobody demands anything of Krakus the Kraken,” the emperor declared, red in the face.
Helleden dipped his head.
Was the sorcerer being flippant?
To the side, Karvus clenched and unclenched the haft of his battle-axe, shifting his weight from one foot to another, ready to spring. The dogs tugged at their leads, their jaws slavering.
Krakus watched Helleden’s fingers, each digit adorned with multiple rings. Some of the inset stones appeared to burn of their own accord.
“What is it you want? Be quick about it. I have important matters to tend.”
Helleden moved his hands, intertwining his fingers at his waist.
Krakus tensed.
“I want you.”
Krakus blinked. “Me?”
“Your army, really. What you do with yourself is of no concern to me.”
Krakus’ eyes narrowed. “If you think I’m holing up in this forsaken realm while your, your…” He searched for a more despicable term but came up short. “Your demons enjoy the southern spoils, you’re sadly mistaken.”
Helleden’s stoic face tilted to one side. “I believe it is you who are mistaken, emperor.”
“What?” Krakus spat. “I ought to—”
Helleden’s calm voice cut in, “Do as you’re bidden.”
Karvus stepped toward the sorcerer, ready to split his head.
The dogs, at least half Karvus’ size, strained and snapped their yellowed teeth, saliva spraying.
Krakus swallowed. He knew what he ought to do. Nobody spoke to him like that. If it had been anybody else, they would’ve already found their head on a pike, but the sorcerer’s calm demeanor unsettled him.
“Have you not always desired to rule Zephyr?” Helleden’s deep voice sounded, deeper than one would expect from an average sized man. “I have given it to you.”
Krakus trembled, but not with fear. “Given me what? This is nothing but rubble.”
Helleden raised his thin eyebrows. “It is Zephyr. A mighty kingdom. Respected by most. Feared by the rest.”
“Bah! Once mighty. You’ve seen to that. ‘Tis nothing but charred rock and ash now. I may as well go back to Kraidic.”
Helleden nodded his head. “If that is your wish, but your army remains.”
Karvus took a big step toward the sorcerer, bringing him within reach of the insolent man.
The pikemen standing just inside the tent flaps tensed.
The dogs pulled on the stake so hard it began to shimmy free of the earth.
Helleden looked Karvus in the eye, his hands slowly untwining.
Nothing intimidated Karvus. His arm muscles flexed, ready to swing, but his father’s voice stopped him.
“Karvus, no!”
An uncomfortable silence settled over the tent.
Helleden gave the son an empty smile and turned his attention back to the Emperor. “You have until this time tomorrow to give me your decision.” Ignoring Karvus, he walked from the tent.
The two pikemen went to block him, but a subtle shake of Krakus’ head stopped them.
Helleden’s black robes fluttered about him as he passed through the flaps and disappeared into the night.