Trial of Kings

by Phil Tucker

  The floor was starting to tilt; Acharsis realized he was having to put more weight on his right foot as they reached the end of the hall, as if walking across a sloped surface. “Cube’s spinning,” he said.

  “Thanks,” said Jarek, walking carefully before him. “Very helpful of you.”

  They passed through the doorway into a second large hall, and for a moment Acharsis couldn’t understand what he was seeing. The tilted floor before them was broken up at regular intervals by stone columns, with a balcony running down the floor’s center to the far wall. The wall to their right was smooth, its surface decorated with carved Maganian runes. Steps at the end rose in a semi-circle to the base of a door that extended horizontally across the far wall, its sides flanked by statues in twin alcoves. Sunlight spread into the room from a large bronze grate in the left wall.

  “We can climb up to that door,” said Jarek, pausing to consider. “Up onto that column carved into the corner; then we can leap up, grab the edge of that first alcove, over the statue, and into the doorway.”

  “Or we could wait five minutes and let the right wall become the floor,” said Sisu. “I’m already half-sliding down toward it anyway.”

  “Is that the test?” asked Kish. “How to navigate this room?”

  “Too simple.” Acharsis scanned the alcoves between the columns on the floor. They were empty. “Perhaps the statues at the far end?”

  The statue on the left was of a bare-chested man in a skirt, a flail held in both hands across his chest, his face regal. The other was of a woman in armor, a snake held in her hands much like one might hold a coil of rope. Each was easily four or so yards tall.

  The floor continued to tilt. It took some effort, but the columns helped him visualize what he had thought of as the floor as a rising wall; he was pressed against it like a fly, leaning precariously as the room’s corner became a trench underfoot.

  “Shall we press on?” Kish stepped into the room warily, reached the first column and hopped over it, landing in the alcove beyond. Haremhab followed, one hand outstretched to almost touch the rising incline of the floor, balancing carefully on the sharp slope.

  They all stepped forth, with only Sisu losing his balance and falling to his ass to slide several yards down toward the chamber’s true floor. He cried out, and Jarek tried to grab him as he passed, only to lose his own balance and be forced to hop after him, unable to stop his descent until he reached the line where corner met floor and there straddled them both, one foot on each surface.

  A rumble sounded from the Maganian runes carved into the center of the right wall - the true floor. The runes glowed gold, then cracks appeared between them and they bulged up - or across - into the air. A towering figure tore itself free of the ground, emerging as if from a pit to stand at a sharp angle on the sloped floor, as if unaffected by the pull of gravity.

  “What is that?” asked Kish in a flat voice. “Jarek?”

  It was a hulking statue, vaguely humanoid and composed of disparate boulders held together by magic. It hunched over, massively long arms reaching all the way down to the ground so that its weight rested on its knuckles. Each boulder that formed its arms glowed with a golden rune. Its head was a shovel, angled and made from rock, twin golden eyes refulgent in the deep cracks of its face. Even hunched over, it stood nearly five yards tall, dominating the center of the room, and each time it moved, dust sifted down from its joints to pour across the floor.

  “Next test,” said Jarek, hefting his hammer. “Kish? Haremhab? May Alok guide your blows.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “It’s going to ask us a riddle, right, Acharsis?” Sisu looked up at him plaintively.

  As if in response, the golem began to move forward, walking on all fours despite its upright nature. Each step shook the floor with a solid crunch of rock grinding on rock.

  “If it’s going to ask us a question, it better hurry up,” said Acharsis. “Do we back out of the room?”

  “No retreating,” said Elu, voice shaking once more. “We must defeat it!”

  “'We'?” asked Jarek, drawing his Sky Hammer. “What’s this ‘we’ business?” He ducked his head and ran forward, hopping with each step from wall to floor as if down the length of a trench.

  A second set of golden lights flared to life in the golem’s craggy face, and with surprising speed it swung a fist the size of a wagon wheel at Jarek’s head. Jarek ducked just in time, nearly tripped, then was behind it.

  “For Scythia!” yelled Kish, running across the alcove, climbing up onto the second column and then leaping with prodigious strength into the air. Her whole body arced backwards as she grasped her hammer with both hands and brought it crashing down on the golem’s arm. Her hammer blasted through, tearing a chunk of stone free, sending shards of rock flying. She landed almost beneath its curved chest, failed to find purchase on the floor, and crashed onto her side.

  The golem twisted around, positioned a fist over Kish and went to crush her with a jerky slam. Acharsis belatedly drew his blade - just as the golem’s fist exploded into rubble, the Sky Hammer flying through it to smash against the far wall.

  The golem staggered, lost its balance, and gave Kish enough time to roll aside before it righted itself. Annara took a hopping step forward and launched her spear at the golem’s head; her aim was true, but her spear bounced off ineffectually.

  The room was still turning. It was easy now to see the colonnaded floor as a severely inclined wall; Haremhab worked his way carefully over the columns, using handholds to keep himself from falling. He loosed his flail and swung it down and around in a vicious arc that would have terminated with the golem’s head. Instead, the golem caught the ax-heads with its remaining hand and crunched them within its fist. Haremhab dropped his staff, drew a long dagger, and with a cry leaped out to land on the golem’s broad shoulders. It reared, spinning about in an effort to dislodge him, but Haremhab held on. He raised his blade and slammed it down in the joint of its shoulder, and there set to working it back and forth as if sawing at a tree.

  “My hammer!” roared Jarek. “Throw it to me!”

  Acharsis cursed, sheathed his blade, and slid down the wall to the floor. He turned away from the fight and ran to where the Sky Hammer lay, partially buried in rubble. With a groan he hefted it with both hands, levering it up onto his shoulder and sagging beneath its weight. How by Ekillos’ eternal attractiveness to women did Jarek even swing this thing?

  A dull boom resonated through the chamber as the golem smashed its remaining fist into a column, shattering it completely just as Kish threw herself aside. Jarek was hurling fist-sized rocks at its head even as Haremhab continued to work his blade. Sparks of golden light were shooting up around his dagger, the runes that decorated the length of the golem’s arm flaring and fading as if in time to an erratic pulse.

  “Here!” Acharsis gripped the hammer by its haft and spun around, allowing the hammer’s own weight to lift the head up to the horizontal before letting go. The weapon spun away, but instead of passing under the golem’s arm it smashed directly into its head, causing it to stagger back.

  Kish surged up the sloped floor and brought her hammer down with both hands on its knee, slid back and then leaped up again to batter once more at its leg. With a cry, Haremhab finally plunged his blade all the way down, and the golem’s left arm fell apart, each constituent boulder falling away to rain down on the ground, barely missing Kish.

  Jarek darted forward and snatched up the Sky Hammer, but took a glancing blow to his shoulder that sent him spinning through the air to crash into an alcove and bounce back out onto the floor.

  Haremhab screamed, arms cartwheeling as the golem reared back, and fell to the rock-strewn ground. He managed to raise his blade in a futile parry a moment before the golem brought its right fist down upon him, crushing him against the floor.

  A scream of effort tore itself from Kish’s throat as she climbed to her feet, hammer swinging up and around with all the stre
ngth of her arms, back and hips to smash into the underside of the golem’s lowered head. A chunk of stone broke free, two eyes still gleaming in its side. Kish fell back, overbalanced, and in that moment Elu ran forward, Annara and Ahktena both crying out after him.

  Blade raised, he climbed up the sloping floor, placed his foot on a fallen boulder and leaped up to slam the tip of his blade into the crevice Kish had opened in its face. His blade sank in and then shattered. Elu fell badly, ankle twisting under him.

  “Oh no,” said Acharsis as the remaining two eyes went dark. The golem was right over Elu. Whatever magic bound its boulders together began to give way, losing its form. With a curse, Acharsis bounded forward, grabbed the back of Elu’s bronze cuirass and hauled him away just as the golem collapsed.

  The sound was thunderous, dust rising in a billowing cloud, and the silence that followed was broken only by the sound of people coughing.

  “Jarek!” Acharsis sat, Elu between his legs, eyes gummed up by dust. “Jarek, you all right?”

  “Fine,” said Jarek from somewhere ahead. “Great. Loving life.”

  “Haremhab!” Ahktena’s cry caused Elu to jerk to his feet and fight his way toward her. The dust was beginning to settle, and Acharsis saw Ahktena struggle between the fallen rocks to where Haremhab lay. Upon reaching him she drew back, hand going to her mouth, eyes wide.

  “He was brave,” said Kish, moving to stand beside her. “He fought well. We’d not have bested the monster without him.”

  Elu reached Ahktena and gazed down at where Haremhab lay, his face blanching at the sight. “He’s gone to Nekuul,” he said. “He’ll be received as a hero.”

  “I don’t feel Nekuul’s presence,” said Sisu. He’d remained crouched against the wall the whole time, his sword held before him. Now he rose to his feet, sheathing the blade with shaking hands.

  “You're saying he’s not going to the underworld?” challenged Elu. “That he’s going to be cursed to remain here as a ghost?”

  “No, no. I said I don’t feel Nekuul’s presence. Instead…” He reached out like a blind man about to explore a newcomer’s face. “I feel… a different energy. A gathering. Like… a snake’s hole in the bank of a river. No. Suction. A great inhalation. No.” He closed his eyes, brow creasing with effort. “It’s like trying to understand a different language. I feel… the brush of wings. A gathering. Yes. I can see it. Wings of bronze and gold. A heart that shines like the sun. Haremhab - it must be him - gathered into that light.”

  “By the lamassu,” said Ahktena in wonder, pressing the base of her thumbs to her brow, hands spreading out like wings.

  “And there —if I—if I—” Sisu grimaced, eyes squeezed tightly shut, reaching out, stumbling forward. “I can sense the underworld, through the light, through the wings. The falling, soaring pain of its beauty—my domain—”

  His right hand caught fire. It flared up with tongues of gold, impossibly bright so that they seared Acharsis’ eyes and forced him to look away. Sisu screamed, then fell. Kish was by his side, calling his name. Acharsis tried to blink away the bright afterimage of that burning hand, but it overlay everything before him.

  “Sisu?” Kish’s voice was strained with fear. “Sisu?”

  “I’m all right.” His voice was weak. Acharsis rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes, and found his sight returning. Sisu was sitting up, staring at his hand. It was unblemished. “It’s gone now. Whatever it was.”

  “You mad fool,” said Ahktena, crouching before him. “You sought to touch the divine fire?” She laughed breathlessly. “Might as well seek to swallow the sun!”

  “Nekuul’s blood runs through my veins, woman.” Sisu shrugged off Kish’s hands and rose to his feet. “I’m no common priest or ranting idiot like you have in your temples. I’m a godsblood. Death is my domain. And your lamassu, they deal in death. Therefore, it’s a game that I can play in - and will.”

  “Madness,” said Ahktena, rising and stepping to Elu’s side. “You’ll damn your soul if you do.”

  “My soul belongs to my grandmother,” said Sisu. “I’d like to see your lamassu fight Nekuul herself over it.”

  “Nekuul’s not here,” said Ahktena. “You said so yourself.”

  “Whatever,” said Sisu. He studied his hand once more. “You couldn’t understand.”

  “Enough,” said Elu. “Haremhab is gone. We’ll honor him when we get out of here. I know what he meant to you, Ahktena.” He took her hand. “I know the loss you’re feeling. I thank you. For his sacrifice, and for your own.”

  Ahktena wiped at her eye with the side of her hand. “You’re gracious, Senacherib.”

  “No, I mean it.” Elu let go of her hand and looked at the others. “It’s not my tale to tell, but Haremhab saved Ahktena once at great cost to himself.” He looked to Jarek. “And he didn’t know of Ahktena’s ploy at your fight. She just lost a true warrior.”

  Nobody spoke, and if anything, Ahktena looked discomfited by the praise. Finally, she sniffed and nodded her thanks to Elu.

  He squared his shoulders. “But for now, we have to keep going. Well done, Jarek, Kish. That’s our fourth test. On to the next.”

  The floor had mostly leveled out so that they were able to walk past the golem’s remains, up the steps to the doorway. Acharsis watched the twin statues warily, but they didn’t move. The sunlight from the grating overhead cast the entrance in bright light, but served only to shadow the interior. Trying to control the racing of his heart, Acharsis followed the others into the room beyond.

  “The straws tested luck. The entrance tested knowledge,” he whispered, more to himself than the others. “The lava, determination. The golem? Martial prowess. What’s next?”

  The room beyond was small and square and without a door. A dead end. The same sourceless light filled its interior, illuminating four bells of varying sizes that lay against the far wall, the smallest the size of Acharsis’ fist, the largest as broad as Jarek’s chest.

  “No door,” said Kish, moving around the room’s perimeter, tracing the wall with her fingertips.

  “The bells, obviously,” said Elu, moving to study them. “Look. There are runes on them.”

  “Faith,” read Ahktena. “This one says 'Destiny'. This one, 'Obedience'. And here, 'Exaltation'.”

  Acharsis rubbed his chin. “Faith, destiny, obedience, and exaltation. Clearly, we’re meant to ring one of the bells.”

  “It is my destiny to become pharaoh,” said Elu tentatively.

  Ahktena touched his arm. “But obedience to the lamassu is paramount.”

  “You can’t have obedience without faith,” said Acharsis.

  “Exaltation seems pretty obvious,” said Kish. “I mean, what’s to debate here? Not everything has to be a trick. Perhaps we’re being tested in our ability to be direct and seize our goals. You want to be exalted.”

  “What do you think, mother?” Elu looked to Annara.

  Annara drifted from one bell to the next. “I don’t know.” Her tone sounded dreamy. “Which will make you pharaoh? Many have faith, many are obedient. Some may even be exalted. But only one has the destiny to be pharaoh.”

  “Destiny,” said Elu softly. It was the smallest bell. He lifted it, hesitated, then rang it once.

  The bell’s peal sent pain tearing through Acharsis’ mind, as if the tips of ten swords had plunged through his skull to rake at the fabric of his self. He screamed, but couldn’t hear anything above the rushing roar in his head; fell, and still the bell pealed on, tearing at his mind, his sanity. He couldn’t endure it. He writhed, muscles spasming, and when finally the awful sound receded, he lay panting, staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

  For how long he lay there he didn’t know, but slowly he felt himself shifting, sliding down the floor to fetch up against the wall as the cube turned. Sisu slumped against him, prompting him at last to move. He sat up, the taste of blood thick in his mouth, and pressed his hand to his head. The others were slowly stirring
around him, cursing and moaning and trying to rise.

  “Not destiny,” he said, tongue thick. “Not destiny.”

  The bells had slid down the floor to fall against them. Gingerly, so as to not ring them, Acharsis set them upright, then climbed to his feet.

  “At least none of us died,” said Sisu.

  “But we lost time,” said Ahktena. “I don’t know how much, but we can’t afford to lose more.”

  “Faith, destiny, exaltation, obedience. A riddle.” Acharsis forced himself to focus. He crouched before the bells. “A formula for a pharaoh. Four components. Destiny isn’t correct. Faith implies obedience, so perhaps obedience is unnecessary. But faith leads to exaltation, does it not?”

  “Everything begins with faith,” said Jarek.

  “That’s true. Faith is the cornerstone of every ruler, of every good and just man. You cannot hope to become pharaoh without it.”

  “Faith, then?” Elu carefully picked up the bell. “Are you sure?”

  “No, but we can’t just sit here,” said Acharsis. “Try.”

  Holding the bell as far away from himself as he could, Elu gave it a shake. The peal that ensued was soothing and clear, comforting and gentle.

  Nobody moved. They glanced around, waiting, but nothing happened.

  “Well, at least we weren’t punished,” said Acharsis. “But no obvious result, either. A neutral bell? Or the first bell that must be rung?”

  “Should we try destiny now?” asked Kish.

  “Does faith lead to destiny? Perhaps.” Acharsis rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. “But in Magan, faith leads to obedience. It’s how the lamassu maintain their control over the empire, isn’t it? And the pharaoh, his faith must dictate his obedience too.”

  “Obedience,” said Elu, picking up the bell. “And look, it’s the next largest bell.”

  “Try it,” said Acharsis.

  Elu did so, giving it a sharp shake. This peal was more sonorous, golden and rich. It filled Acharsis with a sense of calm, of acceptance, of peace.