A Rising Darkness

by Nikki Dorakis

  As I moved around my little kitchen I became aware of movement on the stairs. The owl was coming to join me. I seated myself at the table and began eating the last of the dried sausage I had brought from the capital. The bird glided from the stairs like a black spectre, alighting effortlessly on the back of the chair. It stared pointedly at the meat on my plate. I almost laughed. “So, my dark friend, the God of the Hunt did not look on you with favour last night?” I cut off a couple of pieces from the end of the sausage holding a morsel out.

  In retrospect this was not really the most sensible thing to do for the bird could quite easily have torn my hand to ribbons. Yet even as the thought formed I still had no sense that the bird had any ill will in it. It jumped from the chair to the table, strutted over to me and took the meat returning to its perch on the back of the chair to eat it. It returned a few moments later to collect the second piece and returned once again to its perch. I watched the creature intently for a while before finishing my meal and clearing away the crockery all the while aware of the intense scrutiny of my feathered visitor.

  As I stacked my pots and plates away I became aware of voices and the clatter of swords. I peered cautiously through the spy hole in the door. Not that I was particularly concerned that I might be in danger—none would be foolish enough to tamper with Dhar-Kyr-sini or its owner.

  Outside, Faedron, Maegor and Captain Dthor-Aid’n were engaged in rather heated discussion.

  “And I am telling you, Captain,” Faedron was saying, “that it would be safer to wrestle a tusk bear than to disturb Meriq unbidden—especially here.”

  The captain muttered something I could not quite hear eliciting a harsh laugh from Maegor. “You may well consider the tales of magic fanciful, Captain, but Meriq is Anubis’ ward and pupil. I have seen firsthand what Anubis could do. Who knows what the old mage has taught him?”

  “He is your friend, for Zoar’s sake,” the captain growled throwing his hands up in exasperation, “Never mind, I will go in myself.”

  I stepped back from the door. Clearly, the captain needed an object lesson in disturbing mourning wizards. I reached out with my mind, holding my senses just beyond the door. I felt him approach as clearly as if he had touched me. He raised his hand to knock. My mind flexed and the door opened. The Captain gaped, for I was at least three cubits from the door standing with my hands clasped before me.

  “Yes?”

  The soldier covered his alarm with well-practiced skill. “The King commands you . . .” Dthor began.

  “The king does what?” I demanded, knowing full well that Janir would never have commanded Anubis, and it was certainly most unlikely that he would command me. No-one commanded wizards, not even kings—and Janir had already bestowed that title on me; and so had most of Kalina.

  Now, whether or not it was the sound of my raised voice or the arrival of strangers I have no clear notion, but the black owl shrieked and launched itself from the chair narrowly missing me as it shot through the door causing Captain Dthor to drop on one knee to avoid being hit. The bird wheeled around him before heading off in the general direction of the city.

  “Your pardon, Kyr-Meriq,” the soldier was more obviously flustered now. “The King wishes you to return to the city to oversee the preparations for Anubis’ funeral.”

  Just as well, I thought, as I was about to embrace starvation. Besides, fourteen days of solitude in mourning was more than enough. I said, “Then it shall be as he wishes. Wait here.”

  I took the stairs two at a time and once in the bedchamber I snuffed the brazier with a gesture, and grabbed the small bundle of clothes I had bought with me. Back in the kitchen I extinguished the small range with the contents of the kettle before joining Dthor at the threshold. Faedron and Maegor saluted as I approached. I returned a short, formal bow.

  “There are only three mounts,” I observed.

  “You have left your door open, Kyr-Meriq,” Dthor stated, ignoring my statement.

  I gestured vaguely at the tower, allowing my irritation to work for me. “Close.” The door banged shut with such ferocity that it startled both the horses and their riders.

  “There are only three mounts,” I said again.

  Again the captain did not answer. He merely signalled the men to mount and climbed into his saddle. Once seated he leaned down and offered me his hand. I stared incredulously at him.

  “Do you seriously expect me to ride at pommel?”

  The soldier shrugged. “That or walk with me, lad. The choice is yours.”

  Maegor caught his breath. Faedron began to say something but was silenced by the severity of the captain’s glance.

  “I am a member of the Royal House . . .”

  “And you are a boy,” the Captain interrupted. “It matters not whether you are wizard or Prince of the Realm, Kyr-Meriq the Law requires that you ride at pommel with your escort, and the King sent me to escort you.” He leaned down, seized the collar of my robe and swung me up ahead of him. We were underway to Kalina before I could catch breath to protest.

  As we drew up in the palace courtyard and the soldiers dismounted Faedron leaned towards Dthor. “You have made a serious error, Captain.”

  Dthor said nothing he merely turned and reached to help me down from the horse. My foot took him squarely under the chin and he was on his back before he could blink. I was off the horse and standing with my foot on his chest before he could think to move. Drawing the ceremonial wand from by belt I jammed it under the man’s chin so firmly that had he moved the crystal embedded in the tip would have cut him.

  “Presume to lay hands on me again, Captain, and you will spend the remainder of your life hopping across lily pads in pursuit of flies.” I stepped back, as Faedron and Maegor pulled the man to his feet.

  “I told you so,” Faedron said as I walked towards the main doors.

  “Kyr-Meriq!”

  I turned to find Dthor walking towards me, wiping a thin trickle of blood from the line of his jaw as he approached. When he drew level with me he held up his shield arm. “You may think of me what you will, young lord, but I am the king’s servant and I do his will, not yours.”

  “Faedron will escort me.”

  Dthor shoved his hand into Faedron’s chest as the corporal moved to my side the captain stepped across my path, his shield arm still held out. “No, Kyr-Meriq. Faedron will not.”

  I turned my back on the man, making my displeasure patently obvious to anyone close enough to witness. “I said Faedron will escort me, Captain.” I told the soldier still with my back to him.

  “Stand down and return to the barracks,” Dthor snapped as Faedron took a step forward. The captain moved round to face me taking me by the shoulders twisting me to face him as I went to turn away. Anger was etched in every line of his face his eyes, dark with his ire, flashed like fire-lit sapphires. “Faedron is under my command, boy, not yours. And I said he will not.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Return to the Squad House—now.” He almost barked the order at Faedron and Maegor. He turned back to me, his eyes still dark and fierce. “And you, boy, will come with me.”

  Janir looked over my plans for the funeral procession carefully. It was to be a simple affair. Anubis had never placed much store in pomp and circumstance. The Senators and the handful of nobles Anubis respected most would form the escort for his bier. The members of the Council would form the first part of the entourage and the sycophants could follow on. Of course, I did not refer to the lesser nobles as toadies and flunkies; I merely said that the remainder of the procession could be left to Zhartal’s discretion. Janir gave me a knowing smile and nodded.

  “This is perfect, Meriq,” Janir said with a small smile, “Just as I knew it would be. You are your father’s son, after all. You have his flair for organisation.” He handed me a goblet of wine, smiling slightly as I transferred the liquid to my soldier’s grail adding a measure of water. Janir’s wine was deadly when drunk neat. “That quaich is quite beautiful.” He hel
d out his hand. I passed the cup to him. He turned it round, examining the chasing and finally tracing my crest with his finger. He took a sip from the cup and handed it back. “The men clearly think much of you.”

  “Sire?”

  “To make you such a gift. The significance of it is wasted on none, you know.”

  “Indeed, sire?” I replied flatly. I could all too easily imagine what was being said about my frequenting of the Royal Barracks.

  “You have Anubis’ flair for controversy, too, have you not?”

  “I do not understand, my king.”

  “Captain Dthor-Aid’n.” Janir said his tone tinged with disapproval. Janir leaned towards me, taking my cup once more and drinking from it. “I would be grateful if you could refrain from kicking the Captain of the Royal Guard in the face again.”

  “I did not mean to dent the good captain’s pride.” I answered. “I was vexed at being manhandled. In point of fact, I am still vexed by his conduct.”

  “The Captain was executing the orders I gave him, little dragon. And you did not dent the captain’s pride, Meriq. You disappointed me. I expect much better of you than to behave petulantly.” Janir handed me back my grail. I took a large mouthful.

  Had Janir’s tone been chiding or reproachful, I could have accepted it better. As it was, he sounded genuinely hurt and let down. And I knew that apologising would not repair this. Only time would. “My king . . .”

  Janir raised a dismissive hand. “We are beyond this matter now, you and I. I know you will do what is proper.” The king rose and rang the bell to summon his clerk. “I must take my leave, now Meriq. He gave a low chuckle. “You know—pressures of state and the like.” He moved back to my side placing his hand on my shoulder. “Anubis’s apartments, all his goods, chattels, properties and titles are now yours. Karl has prepared the proclamation; it will be announced officially at Kor-Sian of course.” The king signalled his clerk who handed me the scroll he was holding. I bowed as the king departed and then made my way to the antechamber with Karl.

  As I left the royal apartments Faedron appeared from an alcove and fell into step beside me. We walked in silence for a while before Faedron finally spoke. “Dthor-Aid’n’s face is a picture,” he said, “Well, not so much a picture—more a daubing.” He amended. “That was one powerful blow!”

  “I am not proud of it.” I answered flatly.

  Faedron shrugged, “Well, you should be. He should not have treated you like that.”

  “Maybe not,” I conceded, “but kicking him in the face was dishonourable.”

  “Well he can’t really say much about it,” Faedron answered pragmatically, “I did warn him about your temper.”

  We walked on in silence again until we reached the inner courtyard. I took my leave of Faedron and made my way back to what were now my apartments.

  The dawn of Anubis’ funeral day broke to a heavy hoar frost announcing the arrival of winter with unmistakable finality. The sky was bright and clear and the fountains in the palace gardens were frozen and locked in the ground. The frost dusted window cills and obscured the windows with crystalline flowers.

  When I entered the living quarters Iannos and Alna had prepared breakfast and were standing at the ready.

  “Your bath is drawn and heating, my lord,” Iannos said as he seated me at the table.

  I ate sparingly but quite well, and by the time I had finished breaking fast the bath had reached a proper heat. I bathed quickly, donning a thick white thobe, black scapular and my own silver crest. Thus attired I left the apartments and made my way to the Palace parade ground.

  The quadrangle was bordered by the Royal Guard in full dress purple and gold all standing perfectly at attention. Anubis’ bier was flanked by pallbearers selected from the lower ranks clad in their dress uniforms of sky blue tunics and white capes. Faedron and Maegor fell into step beside me as I passed through the archway, escorting me to where Janir waited at the head of the entourage. Beside him, Dthor, as Captain of the guard, stood holding two horses. As I approached he led the chestnut mare and cupped his hands so that he might assist me to mount. I regarded him stoically before walking straight past him. Faedron and Maegor caught breath and Janir gave me a look severe enough to split a rock. Maintaining my air of calm I walked past the king and stood by Dthor’s mount.

  “If you would be so kind, Captain.” I placed my hand on the pommel of his saddle.

  The Captain looked as if I had struck him with a stave (and so did the king). He regained his composure quickly and, handing the reins of the mare to Faedron (whose jaw looked set to trip him if he moved) he mounted and lifted me into the saddle. As he turned the mount to face the king he whispered. “I hope this does not mean I shall end the day as a frog.”

  “Not this day, Captain.” I mumbled through pursed lips.

  Janir gave a brief approbatory nod and signalled the entourage forward.

  Kor-Sian, the place of the body-breakers, lay six cords from the city. The temple of the dead was situated halfway up a flat-topped butte, the plateau being the site of the altar where the body-breakers would place the rendered flesh of the departed for consumption by the lammergeyers. The ground bone would be scattered by the winds.

  In normal weather the ride would be a pleasant, if brief, outing. At funereal pace in the frozen morning it was highly uncomfortable, but as the procession gained pace in defence against the cold Zhartal, clearly determined that propriety rather than pragmatism would prevail, moved his horse to the lead position reducing the convoy once again to a crawl.

  At Kor-Sian the main part of the entourage remained outside of the temple while those who had escorted the bier were led to the high altar on the icy summit where I stood watching as the lammergeyers circled overhead. And while we endured prayers and eulogies from the Priests, we were whipped by the relentless, freezing wind until finally the body-breakers appeared with Anubis’ remains. They lifted the shallow cauldron up on to the altar stone and anchored it.

  Within moments the huge carrion birds broke their circular formation and swooped to the bowl.

  “A great sign, Sire! A wonderful sign,” the High Priest cooed obsequiously, “A good sign that the Great One is keen to welcome Anubis to his realm.”

  “A great sign that the winter is already hard and will get harder.” I muttered. Dthor’s hand tightened on my shoulder and Janir turned slightly to give me a reproving look. I shrugged my eyebrows at him. Like Anubis, I had little time for talk of gods. Either they existed or they did not, and it occurred to me that whatever gods there might be seemed to care very little for men and their affairs.

  When the last of the lammergeyers had departed the king turned to the gathered nobles. “This day we have bidden farewell to one of our great minds and one of our great and noble souls.” He waited for the sounds of approval to abate. “But in his departure, Anubis has left us his legacy.” The king looked directly at me. Suddenly I felt as if I was standing beneath something huge that was about to fall. The king reached into his robes and pulled out a folded black cloth. Unwrapping the silken kerchief he revealed Anubis’ gold crest and motioned me forward. “From this day forth you are Meriq ibid-Syrrith—son and heir of Anubis ibid-Syrrith—and all shall know this to be so. As I have spoken, so shall it be written, and as it is written so shall it become.” The king stooped and pinned the crest above my own. “No tears, Meriq?” the king asked suddenly.

  “Tears will not change what is, Sire. And death is no cause for tears. It is the life and works a man leaves behind that matter.”

  “Well said, Kyr-sini,” Janir smiled. “All that was of Anubis is now yours.” The king took my hand and placed it over Anubis’ crest before placing his own hand over mine. “All that was held by Anubis is held by you.” He looked beyond me to the gathered nobles, “This means his goods, chattels, properties, his titles and his place at Court.”

  For a moment it seemed that even the wind held its breath. The silence was palpable. The “som
ething” fell. “As I have spoken, so shall it be written, and as it is written so shall it become.” Janir spoke as if he was daring anyone to gainsay him. “Let us return to the city and celebrate the life of our beloved Anubis.” Janir gave me a strange, lopsided smile and as he passed me he leaned close to Dthor. “I think Kyr-Meriq may be rooted to the ground, Captain.”

  Dthor stepped forwards quickly, offering me his shield arm again. And as the Captain escorted me from the butte Shiraj caught my eye and shot me a poisonous look that I affected not to notice, and as we descended to the waiting entourage I found myself smiling. Smugness was not something in which I normally indulged, but I suddenly felt immensely self-satisfied. With his one pronouncement the king had legitimised me. I would no longer be “that Medran”, and there would be none now who would ever dare refer to me as Anubis’ catamite again, an accusation that had been levelled at the old man by his enemies more than once over the years.

  “I’d wager a hogshead of wine that the fat slug of a Seer never foresaw that!” Dthor-Aid’n stated with grim satisfaction as we negotiated the winding stairs. “You look a little pale, lad,” he said with a slight smile as we left the Temple.

  “And you are looking greener and smaller with each word you utter, Captain.”

  The soldier let out a low chuckle and led me down to the waiting horse.

  The barracks fell silent as I appeared in the doorway. I hesitated momentarily before closing the door and making my way to the central hearth where Maegor, Aenar and Faedron were seated. They rose and saluted. I dismissed the formality with a grunt; my newly acquired rank of vizier was fast becoming an inconvenience. My friends were clearly uncomfortable with it, and there was the added burden of those senators and other nobles who had begun courting my favour, somehow believing that being fifteen made me somehow naïve or just plain stupid. I was neither, however, and it did not take long for the toadying nobles to discover that fact; neither did it take them long to realise that I had a long and very accurate memory for insults offered both to Anubis and me over the years.