“You watch, too,” said Nakor.
“I’m not the one wearing sandals,” she said.
They entered the courtyard and no one was in sight. Whatever fight may have resided in the garrison was driven from them by the destruction of the portcullis. They crossed the small bailey and entered the keep.
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more than pirates and traders and their harbor was everything. But after the Kingdom had annexed Yabon, the new Baron had decided to build this citadel at the north end of the city to protect the city from goblins and Brothers of the Dark Path from the Northlands, raiding down into Yabon. Here, for five generations, the business of the Barony had been conducted.
They walked up a broad set of steps to a daunting set of oak doors. Tomas pushed them open, and they parted with a shattering crack as a bar the size of a man’s arm behind the doors splintered and broke.
Before they crossed the threshold, Nakor said,
“Ware this place. It is a seat of power.”
Tomas said, “I can feel it. It has an alien feeling, something no Valheru has encountered.”
Pug said, “That’s saying something. If a Dragon Lord hasn’t encountered what’s on the other side of that door . . .” He closed his eyes and sent out his senses. At the portal a ward existed; had they passed through without protection, they would have been incinerated. Pug quickly ascertained the nature of the ward and countered it. “It’s safe to pass,” he said.
Sword at the ready and shield before him, Tomas entered the room first. Pug followed with Miranda and Nakor.
As soon as they entered the old baronial great hall, it was as if they had stepped into anther world.
The hall reeked of death and the floors were stained with blood. Skulls and bones were scattered around the room, and a faint haze darkened the air. Torches burned in sconces, their light angry and red, as if something had sucked the light out of the flames.
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side of the great hall. Their eyes were glowing jewels of luminous red, their muscles unnaturally enlarged and straining at the skin. They all wore facial scars and expressions of madness. Some twitched and others drooled, and they all had mystic tattoos covering their upper bodies. Some carried double-bladed axes and others had swords and buckler shields.
They seemed poised to attack, yet appeared to be waiting upon something. The great vaulted windows of the room had been painted in red and black, passing only the faintest illumination from outside. The runes upon them were alien and repugnant to view.
Nakor glanced from window to window. “These are wrong,” he whispered.
“What do you mean?” asked Miranda.
“Whoever painted those is trying to do something very . . . very bad. But they didn’t do it . . . correctly.”
“How do you know?” asked Tomas, holding his sword ready and watching first one side then the other as he advanced slowly up the center of the room.
“Years of sleeping on the Codex of Wodar-Hospur . . . I remember things when I need to know them. If I thought about that too much, it might make me upset.”
As they crossed the hall, they confronted a figure on the right-hand side of the baronial throne that caused them all to pause. It was clearly not human.
It looked roughly human, though its skin had a pale blue tinge. Upon its back large wings with brilliant white feathers sprouted. On the left-hand side of the throne stood a man, dressed in black robes with 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 581
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runes embroidered upon them. He had a silver collar around his neck.
Sitting on the throne was an old warrior, still strong-looking despite his age. His grey-shot hair was cut short, though he retained the long fall common to those who had chosen to serve dark powers.
And upon his cheeks the ritual scars clearly showed.
He regarded the four intruders with a wary gaze and said, “One of you must be the magician named Pug.”
Pug stepped forward and said, “I am Pug.”
“I was warned that eventually you would be troubling me.”
“You are General Fadawah,” said Pug.
“King Fadawah!” said the man with an anger that didn’t mask his fear.
Nakor said, “Your claim to that title seems to be at the root of our dispute.”
Fadawah’s eyes drifted to Tomas, and he said,
“What is that?”
Tomas said, “I am Tomas, Warleader of Elvandar.”
The being to Fadawah’s left smiled. His features were cruel and evil, despite being stunningly beautiful, and twice as terrifying for that beauty: a high brow framed in golden ringlets, a straight regal nose.
The mouth was full, sensual, and the eyes were a pale blue. His body looked powerful, heavily muscled, and there was an aura of danger about him even as he sat motionless.
He spoke and the room rang with despair upon every word. “The Valheru!” he said. The creature stepped forward and said, “Stand aside, Your Majesty.”
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Fadawah stood up and moved behind the other man, who silently watched the exchange.
Crossing to stand before Tomas, the entity was his equal in stature. The creature’s voice boomed out in laughter. “Long have I ached to face one of the Dragon Host,” he said. Suddenly he lashed out with his bare fist, striking Tomas’s shield. Tomas flew back across the room, and the dozens of guards who had stood motionless erupted into action.
Miranda reacted before either Nakor or Pug. She spun full circle, her hand held palm downward, and spoke a word of power: a diamond of energy flew from her hand, shrieking through the air to strike the wall behind one of the warriors. It ricocheted off the wall and struck another warrior in the back. Like the finest blade slicing butter, it cut the man in half.
Across the room it flew, as Miranda shouted to Tomas, “Stay down!”
Pug ignored Miranda’s destructive energy blade and turned to face the monster. Pug made a single motion, both hands circling like an open-handed fighting monk’s. But rather than striking a blow, he pulled both hands back before his chest and shouted a word. A single blast of energy came from both his hands, invisible but parting the air like a thousand fists. The winged creature was physically picked up and slammed back into the throne. Fadawah and the man with the silver collar both jumped away, to avoid being struck by the thing’s wing.
Nakor ran forward, as if to attack, but rather than strike with his staff, he confronted the being. “What are you?” he demanded.
Laughing as it stood, the creature pushed Nakor aside, as if he was too trivial a being to warrant vio-
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lence. “I am the One Who Was Called!”
“Who are you?” Nakor repeated, sitting on the floor.
Leaning over, his beautiful face mere inches from Nakor, he said, “I am Zaltais of the Eternal Despair.”
Nakor shouted, “Tomas! You must vanquish him.”
With a gesture of his finger, Zaltais seemed to lift Nakor up and propel him in an arc across the hall, letting the old Isalani gambler slam into the wall.
Nakor slumped to the floor.
Tomas lay below the flashing mystic blade that Miranda had cast, as it rebounded from wall to wall, carving through those warriors still standing.
Pug held his hand palm-out toward Zaltais, and an explosion of energy slammed into the winged being, propelling him backward into the throne one more time.
The mystic weapon that Miranda had
cast faded suddenly, and Tomas leaped to his feet. The dozen remaining warriors surrounded him, and he struck out with his sword. Possessed by senses beyond human, he moved to avoid every blow. His golden sword, not wielded in battle since the Riftwar, struck out, and each blow took a limb or a head.
Miranda ran past the struggle in the middle of the room to see how Nakor fared. The ancient gambler lay stunned. Miranda couldn’t tell how serious his injuries were.
Pug advanced on Zaltais, who sat with eyes blinking a moment, as if stunned, then his eyes focused and he grinned. Pug felt only hopelessness on seeing that smile.
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of the Assembly! You are no Macros the Black, but you are a power! Too bad you’re not worthy of your mentor’s legacy!”
Pug faltered a moment, suddenly unsure of his next act. That hesitation cost him as Zaltais flicked his hand and sent coils of black energy snaking toward Pug. They struck, and each time they hit, Pug felt pain unlike any he had known; beyond the pain of flesh ripped by cruel fangs, each bite made him doubt his own ability. He hesitated, then fell back.
“Pug!” shouted Miranda, seeing her husband retreating.
Tomas swung his golden sword and killed the last of the warriors as Nakor started to rouse.
As Pug fell back, Tomas leaped past him, and the golden sword swung down. Zaltais raised his arm, taking Tomas’s blade on a golden bracer upon his wrist. The blade showered golden sparks and Tomas overbalanced, leaving himself open to a blow from the winged creature. Zaltais leveled a backhand strike with his right fist, slamming into Tomas’s face, and the warrior in white-and-gold staggered from the blow.
In thirty years Tomas had never faced a creature of this power. Not since facing the combined mind of the Valheru had Tomas known such doubt. Even the demon Jakan seemed a trivial test compared to this creature.
Tomas fell to the floor and tasted blood on his lips. “What are you?”
“I?” said Zaltais. “I am an Angel of the Seventh Circle! I am an agent of the Gods!”
Nakor stood up and said, “Get back! He is not what he seems! He is a creature of lies and misdirec-
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tion!” Nakor shook off Miranda’s hand as she tried to steady him. The old man hurried over to the bloody bodies that littered the floor, and said, “These are dead because this thing convinced them their only hope was to do as he bid and he treated them thusly. He will deceive and mislead, and raise doubts that will strike to the root of your being. If you listen to him, he will eventually convince you to serve him.”
Tomas rose up, the blood from his lip dripping onto his breastplate, where it ran off, without stain.
“I will never serve this creature,” he said.
“First he’ll make you doubt your ability. Then he will make you doubt your purpose. Then he’ll make you doubt your place in the universe. Then he’ll convince you where that place is!”
The self-proclaimed Angel from Hell said, “You talk too much, old man!” He withdrew the black coils that had struck Pug and pointed his hand at Nakor. A blinding flash of white-hot energy flared, and Nakor leaped aside as it shot across the hall. It shot out the doorway as Miranda also leaped aside.
Tomas jumped to his feet, drawing back his sword, and struck down at the crown of the creature’s head. Zaltais pulled away, so the tip of the blade struck him in the face. He reeled back, screaming in rage and pain. A red gash cut him from crown to chin. As if the muscles below his skin were pushing outward, the crack down his face widened, then split, running down his throat to his chest and stomach, and he shrieked, an inhuman sound.
It was a keening sound, and it made Pug’s teeth ache as if they were being ground together. Pug saw the red gash splitting Zaltais from crown to groin.
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Like a pea pod being cracked open, Zaltais’s skin and wings fell away.
The thing that emerged from within that shell looked like a giant praying mantis, with a black chitinous exterior, and large diaphanous wings.
“That is no more its true shape than the last!”
shouted Nakor from his position on the floor. “You cannot kill it. You can only hold it. You must confine it and return it to that pit outside.”
“And that you will never do,” said the thing that was now Zaltais. It buzzed an angry sound and the wings blurred as it launched itself from the dais.
Tomas lashed out again with his sword and sheared through one of the wings.
Zaltais slammed hard into the stones and Nakor stood up, moving back as Miranda came forward incanting a spell. Pug also was attempting a spell.
Nakor hurried around the confrontation now in the center of the room. He didn’t want to get in the way. He looked over to where General Fadawah stood, his own sword at the ready as if he sought to join in the fight on the side of his infernal servant.
The other man crouched down beside the throne and Nakor approached them, his staff ready if he needed to defend himself.
Miranda and Pug’s spells were completed within seconds of one another. Crimson bands materialized around the insect and clamped down hard upon it. It chittered in rage and pain. Then Pug’s spell manifested, a nimbus of white light which caused Zaltais to go limp. It crashed to the stones.
“Quickly!” shouted Nakor. “Take it back to the pit and cast it in. Then seal the pit.”
“How?” asked Miranda.
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“Any way you can think of!” Turning to face Fadawah and his companion, Nakor said, “I’ll take care of these two.”
Tomas picked up the imprisoned creature, while Pug cast a backward glance at Nakor. Miranda said,
“Go, now!”
Nakor advanced on Fadawah, his staff before him, while the General stood poised with his sword.
“I don’t need demons from hell to best an old fool like you,” sneered the leader of the invading army. “I was killing better men than you when I was a boy.”
“No doubt,” said Nakor, “but you’ll find that for my obvious shortcomings, I’m still very difficult to kill.” He glanced at the man beside Fadawah. “Ask your companion there; he knows.”
“What?” asked Fadawah, glancing to his left at Kahil.
That slight distraction was all Nakor needed.
Lightning-swift, his staff shot forward, the butt striking Fadawah’s sword hand with a knuckle-crushing blow. The sword fell from fingers gone numb and the General fell back, knocking over Kahil.
Fadawah tried to pull out a belt dagger with his left hand, but Nakor smashed it with his staff, and the General cried out in pain, as he now held out two useless hands.
Nakor’s staff shot out a third time, and the General’s kneecap shattered. He fell, crying in agony as Nakor said, “For too many crimes to measure, beyond what the Emerald Queen and the demon Jakan forced you to do, you have earned death. I shall be merciful and spare you the suffering you deserve.” Suddenly the staff shot forward again, striking the now helpless Fadawah in the center of 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 588
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his forehead. Nakor heard the man’s skull crack. The self-styled King of the Bitter Sea’s eyes rolled up into his head and he died.
Nakor moved around Fadawah’s body and knelt next to the man who crouched next to the throne. He was a thin man, his cheekbones the most prominent feature of his face. “Hello, my love,” said Nakor.
“You recognize me?” he whispered.
“Always,” said Nakor. “Who are you in this body?”
“I am Kahil, Captain of Intelligence.”
&nbs
p; “The power behind the throne, eh?” said Nakor.
“So this is where you went when the demon took your place?”
“No, before,” said Kahil. “I sensed something wrong with that body when I wore the Emerald Crown. My powers were being subverted . . . in any event, Kahil had been with Fadawah before and was trusted. He was clever, but he was greedy. It took little for me to take over this body. For a while the Emerald Queen was nearly mindless, but no one seemed to notice. Then that damned demon showed up and ate it.” Kahil shrugged. “I was the only one who could see through the illusion and knew a demon ruled in my place. I bided my time, knowing eventually I would have a chance to rule again.”
“There have been things working beyond your most ambitious dreams. Do you now realize what a dangerous game you played?”
Weakly, the man said, “Yes, Nakor.” Then a light came into his eyes and he said, “But I can’t help myself.”
Nakor stood and helped Kahil to his feet “What of Fadawah?”
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“Mad. His mind was totally gone. I thought to build a weapon, an engine of magic that would create an army of the dead—there were so many of them lying around—and it did that, but it also brought Zaltais out of the pit. I did not expect that Fadawah could control it, at least for a while, and I could not. I was, I believe the expression is, ‘caught between a rock and a hard place.’ I was ready to dispose of Fadawah once the Kingdom was defeated and I held all of Yabon, but with Zaltais around, I couldn’t quite get to that point.”
“You always failed to anticipate consequences, Jorna.”
“Kahil, please.”
“How do you like being a man this time?”
“It’s occasionally useful. But I miss my last body.
It was by far the most beautiful.” Looking at Nakor, the being who had once been Nakor’s wife, the Lady Clovis, and the Emerald Queen said, “You’ve used that body for a very long time now.”
“I like it,” said Nakor. “It was the one I was born with. I just change my name every once in awhile.”
He pointed to the door through which his companions left. “Did you see your daughter?”