Hugo Negron's Blog - Posts Tagged "mah-lahkt"
Excerpt from Forging of a Knight, Book Three, Prison Planet of the Mah-Lahkt
Well, with my son turning two years old and some "reasonably" decent weather in Illinois, life is definitely for the better! Book three of Forging of a Knight is getting its final touches from my editor, Erin Potter, and Lora Lee is busily working on the cover. It's getting close to Gen Con time, so I'm hopeful I'll have copies ready to showcase and sign by mid August.
With that, below is a small excerpt from Forging of a Knight, Prison Planet of the Mah-Lahkt, which introduces a new character to hinder and harass our main hero, Qualtan. Take a read...
Qualtan eventually returned to his room. He had enjoyed Osei’s and Jesepha’s company. The reason for their presence in Zubadi had been briefly forgotten. He strolled about, observing the airy curtains and nettings placed about the bed and windows. There were many statuettes of protection and luck, Osei had said, that occupied niches in the doorways and corridors. Finding one, he lifted it in his hands, staring at the shrunken skull face that smiled back from atop a dwarf-like body. It was meant to be a guardian against evil spirits, calling forth a ghost of its own to animate against intrusion.
“The dead protecting the living.” Qualtan mused.
“The dead ever bring a curiosity about them, do they not?”
Qualtan looked about, dropping the figure. It shattered, its head rolling towards the feet of a thin man who appeared, dressed in long garments of tattered black. He was not of Zubadi stock. His face was shriveled, an apple carved for All Hallows Eve, yet small fires of yellow shined from where his eyes should have been. He wore a long, black rimmed hat, and stood patiently leaning over what appeared to be a walking stick carved from the vertebrae of bones.
Qualtan immediately withdrew his blade, its radiance proving slight discomfort to the stranger.
“There is no need for that.” The man said, his face squirming with distaste at the light.
Not again! Qualtan thought ruefully.
“Stay where you are! I’ve had enough of uninvited lurkers in black.”
“That is very true. Haunted mirrors and enemies in the night bring enough worry, and now you have me to contend with, alas.”
“What do you mean?” How could the stranger know of Qualtan’s previous confrontation with the image of the haegtes in his mirror, or the visit from Darksiege those many days ago before the Parade of Heroes? ”Who are you?”
“Someone you should be keenly familiar with by now. You walk a path that parallels mine.”
“If Shaz has sent you…”
The being raised his hand, warding off the accusation.
“No one can “send” me, as you put it. My authority is my own.”
“Enough games!” Qualtan advanced.
The man smiled. “I would advise against that. My touch is one you would not wish to feel.” The man extended his hand. It was gnarled, with rotting skin. Small orifices opened and closed noisily on his palm, hungry mouths wailing for sustenance.
Qualtan paused.
“I have come to give warning, not threat. Your quest is of importance to me…and to those that use my services.”
“Oh? So you know of our intent? And who are these “others” that find worry in our actions?”
“Never you mind. Those That Stand in Shadow offend many beyond your sphere. They should not be here, clothed by living skin, alive with living blood.”
“You refer to the Rules.” Qualtan said.
“And what do you know of them?” His visitor said, intrigued.
“What do you?” Qualtan challenged.
The man laughed. “Their fathers…the Mah-Zakim are creatures from the other side, creatures that should not have been allowed in to your world. Invited they were by your Kind, and allowed to mix their seed with yours with the intent to cause evil, to change the balance of things.”
“And by doing so, they broke the Rules.” Qualtan responded.
“More than once, yes. They are not allowed to pass their essence to mortal flesh. They dared to share forbidden knowledge, dared to directly involve themselves in your affairs, and open portals for others to come in. They were punished and imprisoned. Yet their children, because they were born through mortal coil, are allowed to remain. This has protected them, and allowed them to pursue their goals.”
“And what are these goals?” Qualtan did not wish to say more than he should until he knew the meaning of this intrusion.
The man breathed in deeply, exhaling air as cold as ice. “Unwilling to share your knowledge? That is all right. I will share with you mine. The one you follow, the one you chase, wishes to free his fathers from their rightful imprisonment. To do so, he will break the Rules, for their judgment has already been made and cannot be changed. He wishes to open doors and bring them back to your sphere. They, in turn, will open more doors and bring others, seeking revenge for their jailing. A war will begin, a war that will prompt the Mah-Lahkt to break the Rules themselves in order to combat their former brothers, the Mah-Zakim. A war that will envelop your entire world, and destroy it with its fury.” Vapors of moist air rose from the stranger’s gaping mouth, clouding his face.
“This is what Shaz wants. Total destruction, of all life, everything. He feels he will be safe with his fathers and able to stand against the Mah-Lahkt, to defeat them. Should he fall, the bloodshed that will follow on a scale never before seen by both the Mah-Lahkt and the Mah-Zakim will still be victory enough for him.”
“So what is this to you? Whose side do you stand on?” Qualtan asked.
“Neither, for my role is neither to arrest the encroaching weed nor to cultivate the gentle flower. My job is to pluck the prizes left me after the garden has been tended and bring them to their allotted cast. Some I wait for, others I take when due me. As you can see, my cart is ever ready for more to fill.”
At his gesture, a gigantic metal wagon appeared, bursting with wailing heads and writhing arms, bloodied and broken, crammed into a monolithic mound of pain. Behind it was chained another giant wagon, and then another. Skeletons crept about the living piles, poking and prodding like parasites crawling on the skin of some great beast.
Qualtan was struck dumb by the horrible scene. As quickly as it appeared, the image faded away.
“I know you now.” Qualtan said soberly, a shiver going through his spine. He was a far more deadly visitor than Darksiege. He was deadlier, in fact, than the Arch-Mages and Those That Stand in Shadow combined. His power was uncontested by the living, and to be granted such a personal audience was a dire omen for them all.
The man smiled. “Of course you do. You aid in my business, for my servants and I judge neither criminal nor priest. Others balance the scales and offer rewards or punishments. I merely help those along in leaving this place of blood and flesh…this place, and countless others. You yourself will join my bounty someday.”
“Not like the others you have shown me. Not like them.” Qualtan insisted.
“Perhaps. Who is to say? But know you this, child knight. When the word is given, the scythe of pain and pestilence is allowed my brothers in clearing the chaff from the wheat. The tide may ebb and flow – sometimes barely a droplet, and at other times a deluge that swells over its embankments. However, if Shaz succeeds, that tide will become an unrelenting fury that will not only unbalance the scales, but destroy them. Shaz and his Kind will dictate the torrent of those that come to me, when that is MY job. I will not brook this, and thus have come to warn you.”
“To stop him? Of what value is that, Great Huntsman?”
The man bowed, taken with the title. Suddenly, the being appeared to fly towards Qualtan at great speed, his cadaverous body appearing directly before the knight’s. Qualtan could feel the cold, and smell the rot. The man smiled again, showing black teeth and a swollen tongue. He whispered softly, as if other ears were straining to hear.
“I cannot say much, but the little I offer will be great enough. Shaz sees himself akin to his fathers, not as a being of human birth. He has limits they do not have. Look for them! Use them!”
Qualtan smiled. The Huntsman was arrogant, lofty, fully aware that his power held sway over all. Yet, he had come to him, been sent to him, which meant need. The young knight felt that gave him an opportunity to press back.
“You say your authority is your own, but you lie, Huntsman. Your authority has been given to you, as has permission to share your riddle.”
The man’s flame-eyes blazed yellow with anger for a moment.
“I can take you home with me now, by force, if I so wished.”
“If it was my allotted time, you could. But it is not my time yet, is it, Great Huntsman?”
The man’s lips formed a thin scar. “You disrespect me.”
“I do not. I respect your power, and your offer of knowledge. You are as high above me as I am to a stone in a stream. I merely state truth against your posed threat, noble Ankou.”
The man breathed out deeply, a blast of cold mist. He smiled. “You place a pretty bow upon the words you throw at me. Still, you show deference enough, which I will accept.”
The man turned away, a wall of fog taking shape before him.
“I have said my lot. No more can be done for you or the others. I will be watching with interest for the final result.”
As the man entered the fog, Qualtan approached him further, for there were still questions yet to be answered. “But why me? Why not tell this to the other champions, or the Arch-Mages themselves, who could do more with it than I?”
The man’s neck began to creak. His head swiveled completely ‘round, his face meeting his back.
“Shaz looks to break the Rules. So shall you, someday soon.”
“Me? I don’t understand…what do you…”
“Should he fail in his efforts, you shall pay the price he would have if you succeed against him and continue along your chosen path. Consider me an…additional warning…for the actions your future self will take. Your fall shall give you a place on my cart.”
“You speak of the vision the haegtes showed me, don’t you! You say I have no choice to escape it?”
“Your choice will be to purposely accept it.”
“And you will not say anything else on the matter?”
The Ankou smiled yet again. “As you put it to me before, such words would be outside the authority given me.”
“Qualtan!” A voice cried out. It was Jesepha, banging on the outside of his chamber’s door.
There was a final question Qualtan had to ask. “Wait! Before you leave…!”
The figure dissolved within the smoke, leaving two beacons of yellow that began to die out.
“If you cannot share with me my fate, then can you tell me that of my parents? Are they well, my mother, and my father, wherever they reside now?”
“I shall look upon our next meeting…most fondly.” The man said, as he disappeared from view.
“Ankou!” Qualtan cried out, but to no avail, for he was gone.
“My fate…” He said to himself, looking down at his hands.
“Qualtan!” Jesepha persisted.
Qualtan slowly, numbly, went towards the door, unlocking it. Jesepha rushed in, sword in hand.
“I heard voices! There was a cold coming from this chamber into mine next door, and a foul smell! Are you all right? What has happened?! Who was here?” She said, crossing her arms in the frigid air of the room.
“Death has paid me a visit this night.” He said quietly, turning away.
With that, below is a small excerpt from Forging of a Knight, Prison Planet of the Mah-Lahkt, which introduces a new character to hinder and harass our main hero, Qualtan. Take a read...
Qualtan eventually returned to his room. He had enjoyed Osei’s and Jesepha’s company. The reason for their presence in Zubadi had been briefly forgotten. He strolled about, observing the airy curtains and nettings placed about the bed and windows. There were many statuettes of protection and luck, Osei had said, that occupied niches in the doorways and corridors. Finding one, he lifted it in his hands, staring at the shrunken skull face that smiled back from atop a dwarf-like body. It was meant to be a guardian against evil spirits, calling forth a ghost of its own to animate against intrusion.
“The dead protecting the living.” Qualtan mused.
“The dead ever bring a curiosity about them, do they not?”
Qualtan looked about, dropping the figure. It shattered, its head rolling towards the feet of a thin man who appeared, dressed in long garments of tattered black. He was not of Zubadi stock. His face was shriveled, an apple carved for All Hallows Eve, yet small fires of yellow shined from where his eyes should have been. He wore a long, black rimmed hat, and stood patiently leaning over what appeared to be a walking stick carved from the vertebrae of bones.
Qualtan immediately withdrew his blade, its radiance proving slight discomfort to the stranger.
“There is no need for that.” The man said, his face squirming with distaste at the light.
Not again! Qualtan thought ruefully.
“Stay where you are! I’ve had enough of uninvited lurkers in black.”
“That is very true. Haunted mirrors and enemies in the night bring enough worry, and now you have me to contend with, alas.”
“What do you mean?” How could the stranger know of Qualtan’s previous confrontation with the image of the haegtes in his mirror, or the visit from Darksiege those many days ago before the Parade of Heroes? ”Who are you?”
“Someone you should be keenly familiar with by now. You walk a path that parallels mine.”
“If Shaz has sent you…”
The being raised his hand, warding off the accusation.
“No one can “send” me, as you put it. My authority is my own.”
“Enough games!” Qualtan advanced.
The man smiled. “I would advise against that. My touch is one you would not wish to feel.” The man extended his hand. It was gnarled, with rotting skin. Small orifices opened and closed noisily on his palm, hungry mouths wailing for sustenance.
Qualtan paused.
“I have come to give warning, not threat. Your quest is of importance to me…and to those that use my services.”
“Oh? So you know of our intent? And who are these “others” that find worry in our actions?”
“Never you mind. Those That Stand in Shadow offend many beyond your sphere. They should not be here, clothed by living skin, alive with living blood.”
“You refer to the Rules.” Qualtan said.
“And what do you know of them?” His visitor said, intrigued.
“What do you?” Qualtan challenged.
The man laughed. “Their fathers…the Mah-Zakim are creatures from the other side, creatures that should not have been allowed in to your world. Invited they were by your Kind, and allowed to mix their seed with yours with the intent to cause evil, to change the balance of things.”
“And by doing so, they broke the Rules.” Qualtan responded.
“More than once, yes. They are not allowed to pass their essence to mortal flesh. They dared to share forbidden knowledge, dared to directly involve themselves in your affairs, and open portals for others to come in. They were punished and imprisoned. Yet their children, because they were born through mortal coil, are allowed to remain. This has protected them, and allowed them to pursue their goals.”
“And what are these goals?” Qualtan did not wish to say more than he should until he knew the meaning of this intrusion.
The man breathed in deeply, exhaling air as cold as ice. “Unwilling to share your knowledge? That is all right. I will share with you mine. The one you follow, the one you chase, wishes to free his fathers from their rightful imprisonment. To do so, he will break the Rules, for their judgment has already been made and cannot be changed. He wishes to open doors and bring them back to your sphere. They, in turn, will open more doors and bring others, seeking revenge for their jailing. A war will begin, a war that will prompt the Mah-Lahkt to break the Rules themselves in order to combat their former brothers, the Mah-Zakim. A war that will envelop your entire world, and destroy it with its fury.” Vapors of moist air rose from the stranger’s gaping mouth, clouding his face.
“This is what Shaz wants. Total destruction, of all life, everything. He feels he will be safe with his fathers and able to stand against the Mah-Lahkt, to defeat them. Should he fall, the bloodshed that will follow on a scale never before seen by both the Mah-Lahkt and the Mah-Zakim will still be victory enough for him.”
“So what is this to you? Whose side do you stand on?” Qualtan asked.
“Neither, for my role is neither to arrest the encroaching weed nor to cultivate the gentle flower. My job is to pluck the prizes left me after the garden has been tended and bring them to their allotted cast. Some I wait for, others I take when due me. As you can see, my cart is ever ready for more to fill.”
At his gesture, a gigantic metal wagon appeared, bursting with wailing heads and writhing arms, bloodied and broken, crammed into a monolithic mound of pain. Behind it was chained another giant wagon, and then another. Skeletons crept about the living piles, poking and prodding like parasites crawling on the skin of some great beast.
Qualtan was struck dumb by the horrible scene. As quickly as it appeared, the image faded away.
“I know you now.” Qualtan said soberly, a shiver going through his spine. He was a far more deadly visitor than Darksiege. He was deadlier, in fact, than the Arch-Mages and Those That Stand in Shadow combined. His power was uncontested by the living, and to be granted such a personal audience was a dire omen for them all.
The man smiled. “Of course you do. You aid in my business, for my servants and I judge neither criminal nor priest. Others balance the scales and offer rewards or punishments. I merely help those along in leaving this place of blood and flesh…this place, and countless others. You yourself will join my bounty someday.”
“Not like the others you have shown me. Not like them.” Qualtan insisted.
“Perhaps. Who is to say? But know you this, child knight. When the word is given, the scythe of pain and pestilence is allowed my brothers in clearing the chaff from the wheat. The tide may ebb and flow – sometimes barely a droplet, and at other times a deluge that swells over its embankments. However, if Shaz succeeds, that tide will become an unrelenting fury that will not only unbalance the scales, but destroy them. Shaz and his Kind will dictate the torrent of those that come to me, when that is MY job. I will not brook this, and thus have come to warn you.”
“To stop him? Of what value is that, Great Huntsman?”
The man bowed, taken with the title. Suddenly, the being appeared to fly towards Qualtan at great speed, his cadaverous body appearing directly before the knight’s. Qualtan could feel the cold, and smell the rot. The man smiled again, showing black teeth and a swollen tongue. He whispered softly, as if other ears were straining to hear.
“I cannot say much, but the little I offer will be great enough. Shaz sees himself akin to his fathers, not as a being of human birth. He has limits they do not have. Look for them! Use them!”
Qualtan smiled. The Huntsman was arrogant, lofty, fully aware that his power held sway over all. Yet, he had come to him, been sent to him, which meant need. The young knight felt that gave him an opportunity to press back.
“You say your authority is your own, but you lie, Huntsman. Your authority has been given to you, as has permission to share your riddle.”
The man’s flame-eyes blazed yellow with anger for a moment.
“I can take you home with me now, by force, if I so wished.”
“If it was my allotted time, you could. But it is not my time yet, is it, Great Huntsman?”
The man’s lips formed a thin scar. “You disrespect me.”
“I do not. I respect your power, and your offer of knowledge. You are as high above me as I am to a stone in a stream. I merely state truth against your posed threat, noble Ankou.”
The man breathed out deeply, a blast of cold mist. He smiled. “You place a pretty bow upon the words you throw at me. Still, you show deference enough, which I will accept.”
The man turned away, a wall of fog taking shape before him.
“I have said my lot. No more can be done for you or the others. I will be watching with interest for the final result.”
As the man entered the fog, Qualtan approached him further, for there were still questions yet to be answered. “But why me? Why not tell this to the other champions, or the Arch-Mages themselves, who could do more with it than I?”
The man’s neck began to creak. His head swiveled completely ‘round, his face meeting his back.
“Shaz looks to break the Rules. So shall you, someday soon.”
“Me? I don’t understand…what do you…”
“Should he fail in his efforts, you shall pay the price he would have if you succeed against him and continue along your chosen path. Consider me an…additional warning…for the actions your future self will take. Your fall shall give you a place on my cart.”
“You speak of the vision the haegtes showed me, don’t you! You say I have no choice to escape it?”
“Your choice will be to purposely accept it.”
“And you will not say anything else on the matter?”
The Ankou smiled yet again. “As you put it to me before, such words would be outside the authority given me.”
“Qualtan!” A voice cried out. It was Jesepha, banging on the outside of his chamber’s door.
There was a final question Qualtan had to ask. “Wait! Before you leave…!”
The figure dissolved within the smoke, leaving two beacons of yellow that began to die out.
“If you cannot share with me my fate, then can you tell me that of my parents? Are they well, my mother, and my father, wherever they reside now?”
“I shall look upon our next meeting…most fondly.” The man said, as he disappeared from view.
“Ankou!” Qualtan cried out, but to no avail, for he was gone.
“My fate…” He said to himself, looking down at his hands.
“Qualtan!” Jesepha persisted.
Qualtan slowly, numbly, went towards the door, unlocking it. Jesepha rushed in, sword in hand.
“I heard voices! There was a cold coming from this chamber into mine next door, and a foul smell! Are you all right? What has happened?! Who was here?” She said, crossing her arms in the frigid air of the room.
“Death has paid me a visit this night.” He said quietly, turning away.
