Demon Blade

by Mark A. Garland

  Frost allowed himself an inward smile as he and his three companions, dressed now in the finest boots and tunics the market and Frost's dwindling supply of gold coins would offer, entered the council's chambers. They would do, he mused; just. The memory of recent days of struggle on the road was fading rapidly.

  The reception hall was warm with the soft colors of richly textured tapestries. A table filled the center of the hall, surrounded by high-backed chairs, each covered in soft leather. Bowls of fresh fruit decorated the center of the table, and flagons of water and wine stood beside them. The six council members were dressed mostly in Curien linens and silks trimmed in gold lace. They sat at the far end of the table, four Kresaians, another man who was obviously a desert tribesman. The sixth, who was a very dark-skinned, large-boned fellow, greeted everyone as they entered and seemed inclined to speak for the rest.

  "We have waited a very long time for your arrival," he said, extending a hand to indicate the table's empty chairs. Frost sat between Rosivok and Sharryl at the table's near end, while Madia sat along the right side, between the two groups. Frost watched her as she acknowledged each council member, calm and respectful yet completely alert, even accomplished, and he decided her choice of seats had been intentional.

  Madia, after all, was here because none of her own plans had worked out, more than anything else, and because tagging along after a bag-of-wind mage was all that was left her, for now.

  Of course, he had no plans beyond Glister, either. He had thought at first to simply go to a land where they had never heard of him, there to stay until he felt . . . differently. But if he did, he might never be able to show his face in this realm again. Still, he reflected, such an exile was a price he might yet be willing to pay.

  "I am Andala, First Counselor," the big, dark man said. He introduced the others, Tienken, Basmur, Basonj, Ghastan, and Javal. Frost introduced himself, the two Subartans, then Madia. A distinct flicker of surprise touched each of the councilmen's eyes.

  "You have raised her spirit?" Andala asked, eyes wide.

  "She has not yet died," Frost explained. "There are many lies about in these lands today. Now, we begin with truths."

  He watched Madia weather their stares. They asked no immediate questions, and Frost decided this was probably all for the best. He decided to proceed.

  "Why have you requested my presence?" he began, but the man nearest Madia, Javal, ignored Frost completely. "If what you say of her is true," he asked, "why do you bring her to this council?"

  "Madia expressed a desire to replace the Subartan guard I recently lost. Her cousin, in fact; the young Duke Jaffic Andarys. She is presently in my employ."

  "Jaffic is dead?" Javal asked in surprise.

  "He is," Frost replied.

  "Another reason to ask why she is not in Kamrit, assuming her duties," Andala said, leaning forward, more intense. "Here with you she may as well be dead, for all the good she does Ariman or Neleva."

  "You speak of telling truths," Ghastan said, staring at Madia from the table's other corner. "Do you know all that has happened since your strange, temporary death?"

  "In Neleva, or Ariman?" Frost asked.

  Andala frowned. "Both."

  "We were going to ask what you knew," Frost added quickly. "But yes, we have been to Kamrit quite recently. Perhaps we can share our thoughts on these matters."

  He had no idea what their thoughts were, in fact. Neleva might be partially allied with Ferris, even though Frost doubted this. Or the council might be indifferent, which Frost had largely assumed . . . until just now.

  "Let me ask," Basmur said, "how was your visit to that city? What were your impressions? And you will let the girl answer, so that we will know she is more than spirit."

  "I was not pleased," Madia said rather tersely; Frost did not see this as perhaps the best response. He waited for Madia to add something, realized she was letting him lead again—trusting him again, he thought, or beginning to. . . .

  "Yes, most unfavorable," he replied.

  "You met with Grand Chamberlain Ferris?"

  "You . . . you could say that," Madia answered.

  "And he did not welcome you?" Andala asked, and Frost noticed that all six council members attended closely to the answer.

  "We disapproved of each other," she replied clearly, apparently unwilling to give Ferris even the slightest endorsement.

  "And do you also feel this way?" Andala asked, addressing Frost, who found Madia turning now, watching him, eyes set. There was no going back.

  "Yes," Frost said.

  The council members glanced at one another. Most of them nodded.

  "May we speak in confidence?" Andala asked.

  Frost nodded. "Please!"

  "The rise to power of Lord Ferris and his subsequent activities present a great danger," Andala said. "We believe he intends to control all lands from the southern seas north to the Spartooths. His troops haunt our borders and abuse our hospitality when they visit our lands. They grow more provocative each day, and our officers fear a confrontation is inevitable."

  "They also see little chance of a victory against the forces Lord Ferris has amassed," Basonj added grimly.

  "Continues to amass," Basmur corrected. "And the new tariffs he has imposed now affect all goods that leave or enter Ariman. Trade has suffered, and the profits of our merchants and tradesman have suffered as well."

  "He uses the money not only to sweeten his treasury but to pay for the killers he hires," Basonj said, speaking to Madia. "We have enjoyed a prosperous peace for many decades. Lord Ferris now threatens to destroy all that, to bring bloodshed to our people and an end to the progress made by your father and your grandfather, and this council."

  "The great lords of Bouren and Jasnok, Vardale and Thorun are also concerned," Frost said. "They have problems with Ferris' troops similar to your own."

  "We have recent reports from the northern fiefs," Andala disclosed. "It seems their problems have already grown worse than our own."

  "We believe that soon, Ferris will attempt to bring those lands completely under his control," Basonj added, now to Frost. "This may occupy his considerable energies for a time, but eventually he will concentrate on us. That is why we called upon you. Ferris has made diplomatic gestures to indicate that such troubles are strictly an internal affair and nothing for Neleva to worry about, but his actions say otherwise."

  Frost sat back, carefully examining each council member. "There is no sea monster," he said, as much to himself as to them. "Is there?"

  "Sea?" Andala asked. "No, but there is a human monster in Kamrit, a far greater threat."

  "He is a poison," Javal said, a vital look on his face. "A man unlike you or me. He is without compassion or reason, it seems, and without limits to his ambitions. You, Frost, must help us stop him. And you," he said, looking to Madia now, "do you intend to take your place as ruler of Ariman?"

  "Yes, I do," Madia answered, then she turned to Frost, waiting.

  "He is not a man," Frost said, sighing, ignoring the knot in his gut. "Ferris is not human at all."

  Silence fell about the table for a moment. Frost took a breath, folded his hands on the table in front of himself. "I confronted him in Kamrit and I felt his powers. He is a creature of the darkness, a demon more powerful than any of you can imagine—or I, had I not encountered him myself."

  "There have been many stories," Tienken said. "Dark mages in the city, dark magic at the castle, it is said; we have heard that misfortune befalls those who—"

  "We also have heard," Madia said. "It seems the stories are true."

  "Then why does Ferris seek the Demon Blade?" Andala asked. "Such a creature should fear the Blade above all else, yet even now his men search for it in Golemesk Swamp."

  "He may fear that others might find it," Frost explained. "As long as he has the Blade, it cannot be used against him. And he may simply be curious, as demons often are. If he were to discover the Blade's secrets, he might als
o find a way to use its powers for his own ends."

  "All the more reason to stop him now, before something like that can happen," Andala insisted. "Skirmishes have broken out already in the northern fiefs, most near the swamp, and there have been losses. We hear that Ferris' men have enjoyed a number of recent victories."

  "Many believe the Blade is there," Javal added. "The body of a wizard known as Ramins has been found, and—"

  "We know," Madia said. Frost found her looking at him again, no reservations at all, a look that made him feel even more uneasy than he had before. There were always rumors of Ramins death, of the Blade.

  Always. . . .

  "You say you encountered Lord Ferris," Basonj said. "Can you tell us what happened?"

  Frost stared at the other man, intensely aware that, despite all his rationalizing, he could not bring himself to admit fully to his errors, to the defeat he had suffered. He tried to find other words, but they were not at hand.

  "We lost," Madia said for him, her voice low and heavy. "The creature Ferris nearly destroyed all of us."

  Again, silence.

  "We had heard," Andala said to Frost, slowly, "that you were a mage of . . . considerable talents."

  "I was not prepared," Frost said, unwilling to let things stand as they were. "It became clear that to make another attempt under more advantageous circumstances might be wise. So we retreated."

  "We certainly did," Madia said, briefly rolling her eyes. "And it seems there will be no other attempt."

  "You've given up?" Basmur asked, voicing the question that was obvious on the faces of the others.

  Frost found all six councilmen staring at him, found Rosivok and Sharryl doing the same—and Madia bearing the harshest eyes among them. The omens, those he had been able to read, were bad, all of them. And logic spoke even less kindly of trying again. His best magic, after all, had not been enough. What was there to prepare? How could any single mage, perhaps even an army of them, face the powers the demon Ferris possessed?

  "The Blade must be found," Rosivok said. "By allies."

  Everyone turned and looked at him.

  "Yes," Madia addel coldly. "If we can find the Demon Blade before Ferris, and then learn its secrets, Frost can use it to destroy him. Is that right, Frost?"

  "Of course he can!" Andala said. "And we will help!"

  "Thank you so much," Frost muttered, placing one hand flat over one closed eye, half-hiding his expression. They do not understand, he thought. Or they choose not to.

  "But how can we find this weapon when an army has so far been unable to?" Madia asked.

  "Frost can sense such things," Sharryl said. "He has a spell that can bring him to it."

  "And thank you, as well, Sharryl, so very much." Frost furnished her with a dire glare. Sharryl nodded graciously.

  My Subartans are attacking, kidnapping me, he thought. They have already loaded me onto a boat and set sail for the swamps!

  "We will supply you with anything you need," Andala said. "Men, horses, ships, weapons, gold. You will require a large enough force to—"

  "Not a large force," Frost corrected, looking at his hands now. His head felt as if it had grown much too large and might well fall off if nothing was done about it. Still, a part of him seemed to want to go, seemed to hope that—foolish and complex though the idea truly was—there might be some hope, some way to turn the odds.

  "A ship, then, and gold to buy men along the way if we need them," Madia suggested.

  "Must there be a ship?" Frost moaned.

  "It would be unsafe for you to travel by land, of course," Andala replied.

  "Yes," Basmur said. "This is a marvelous plan. Let us see to it at once!"

  Frost eyed his Subartans, then Madia, and found all three of them looking at him as if he were about to change colors, each one wearing an unmistakable smile.

  Chapter XVII

  He looked more like a highwayman than a ship's captain, Madia thought as they boarded, with his thick brown hair and short knotty beard, durable linen shirt and trousers accented by fine leather boots and vest. He wore an ornate sword and a sheath of the sort fashioned by the desert tribes. He was not a young man, perhaps as old as forty, but seemed quick enough as he strode the deck, and quicker at barking orders to his crewmen—a motley lot Madia thought looked more worthy of a jailor's keeping. Kinade, the captain called himself. Madia was certain he had been called much worse.

  "I see the name of this vessel has been painted over," Frost remarked as they stood about, waiting for Kinade to acknowledge them.

  "Aye," Kinade said, pausing as he passed, then adding nothing more.

  "It is bad luck to change a vessel's name."

  Kinade closed one eye. "So I hear, but we never changed it, we just took it off." He turned and listened as one of his men borrowed his ear.

  "What is the wisdom of a ship with no name?" Madia asked Frost, scrutinizing his reaction.

  "I will have to think about it," he said curtly.

  "Never worry, she's a good, fast ship," Kinade told them, turning back, grinning now, slapping Frost on the shoulder. "Not large enough for a heavy cargo, but built wide and low, a shape that stays down out of the wind and high up on the water. The bow is strong, double-beamed, unstoppable! And you see the masts?" He pointed. Madia looked up, following the mast skyward. "Lots of sail, and oars if we need them." Kinade indicated the rowing stations along the side rails, amidships. "We'll have you to Kurtek quick enough."

  "The quicker the better," Frost replied. "I have no wish to spend much time at sea."

  "Not a seaman, then, aye?" Kinade asked.

  "A voyage at sea means trusting your life to a ship," Madia said, "and Frost is not so trusting."

  "I simply prefer solid ground," Frost corrected. "Much more reliable."

  "Of course," Madia said, letting it go. She saw Frost's face continue to frown. A strange look, on him, though one she was getting used to, since he had worn it for most of several weeks now. She knew well enough the thoughts behind it, and she felt a similar pang of uneasiness at the thought of where their journey would finally lead, at the memories of what had already happened there.

  She had always acted on her desires, no matter the consequences, while Frost had always considered the outcome first. Now, when pressed to talk about the future—the voyage, Golemesk, the Demon Blade—he seemed not to look ahead at all. She and the others had largely forced him to go on this journey, but even now, it was as though he wasn't here. She more or less understood: Frost had been humiliated for the first time in his life; for her, the experience was not so new.

  All the pushing and shaming she or anyone else could bring to bear would do nothing to assure Frost that everything would not go wrong again—or convince him to use his talents again. He had done no magic at all since leaving Kamrit. Madia hadn't noticed, but Sharryl had pointed it out. No one had yet asked him, and he hadn't said.

  "There is bedding and stowage below," Kinade said, his rough voice pulling her from her thoughts. "Best get there. We are ready to leave port."

  "We can stow our things, then come back up on deck for a while," Frost said to Madia.

  "You might like it better below, where you will not see the land run away," Kinade remarked, overhearing.

  "No," Frost said, looking at the other man. "There are many unknowns in the sea, but I am told there is also great strength, boundless and soothing, and that is what I wish to explore."

  Good, Madia thought. Good for you!

  "Very well, but if anyone goes over the side and don't come up, I make no promises, and I keep my fee," the captain said. "I can tell you what is bad luck—havin' two women on board, as any man here can say." He made a dark face, then he turned to Madia and smiled. "Though, how bad can it be, in your particular case?" he added. Madia looked away, suppressing a grin of her own. He was a swine, of course, but she had something of a soft spot for rogues, and he seemed able to influence it.

  Frost turned to
Rosivok and Sharryl, who were waiting silently behind him, watching the crew rig the sails. "Agreed, of course," Frost said rather snidely. "But if anything should happen to you, or this ship, we will get our gold back."

  There was a changing look in the captain's eyes, a touch of surprise, then a good deal of calculation. Finally he grinned with most of his teeth. "Fair enough!" he said. "We have a contract."

  Madia watched the wizard shrink again as Kinade walked away—a moment of bravado inspired by the captain, gone now. But there was hope for Frost, she decided, in his simply being here, in this attempt to protect the ship in some way. The ship would be within sight of land for nearly the entire journey around the cape at Brintel and up the bay, north to Kurtek. Which was twice fortunate, since she had never been to sea herself, and already that thought combined with the thick smell of dead fish and salt water and green, tide-washed rocks had affected her.

  "He could be a danger," Rosivok said, meaning Kinade.

  "I know," Frost said, "but I think he is not, at least to us. And if we run into trouble, he should be an asset. Which is why the council chose him, I am sure. I have no desire to sail with timid men."

  "But you are not a woman," Madia said. Frost looked at her, and she grinned.

  "Of course," he said.

  The crew were taking up positions at the oars. The bow began to swing out, and they faced the open sea, leaving Neleva behind.

  * * *

  The first two days passed without incident. By the end of the third day, the ship had rounded the cape and the city of domes and towers that was Brintel. Dozens of other ships were seen entering and leaving the busy port, and many more were moored beyond Brintel's northern shores, in the shelter of the cove. Madia watched the vessels and their crews pass, and she could not help making comparisons. There were none just exactly like the boat she was on, nor the crew she was with. And all the other ships had names. She wondered whose fleet Kinade and his men belonged to, what nation they had originally sailed from. But the question had an uncomfortable feel to it. Even Rosivok and Sharryl seemed reluctant to talk about who these people were, though they, and Frost, seemed to have a fair idea.