A Rising Darkness

by Nikki Dorakis

  “Clearly.” I answered grinning.

  “Not of you,” he added quickly.

  I laughed quietly and slid from under our cloaks. “Should I be pleased or insulted I wonder? Don’t answer that!”

  Orrin and Ursus had rekindled the main hearth and were heating the leftovers of the previous night’s meal for breakfast. Nearby at the watch hearth Kylos and Aenar sat huddled together with their backs to the camp.

  At the horse picket Kaleb was engaged in rather earnest conversation with Markos. My hackles rose slightly as I noticed that several times during their tête-à-tête Markos looked over to where Aenar and Kylos were sitting.

  Swathing myself in my cloak I moved quickly towards the pair. If there was to be a problem I wanted to get ahead of it.

  “. . . and he gave him his dagger and called him ‘b’zaddi, Markos. And look,” he pointed over to the pair, “they have exchanged cloaks!”

  I glanced quickly in the general direction. Sure enough Kylos and Aenar were returning to the main hearth each wearing the other’s cloak.

  “Is something the matter?” I asked approaching the couple.

  Markos glanced past me to the main hearth. “Kaleb is concerned that Aenar may be attempting to debauch Kylos.”

  “I did not say that, Markos. I-I-I am merely concerned with . . .”

  “Whether or not my Provost is trying to seduce a Morlan archer? Does that sound better to your ears?” I ventured.

  Before Kaleb could reply there was a sudden explosion of laughter by the fire. Aenar leapt to his feet. “By the gods I’ve become a Morlan!”

  Kylos laughed, tossing Aenar his cloak. “Much as I hate to tell you this, ‘b’zaddi, you rather lack the—eh—accoutrements.” He said, tucking his thumbs under the hip buckles of his battle-wear and tugging at it.

  “Whelp!” Aenar laughed and throwing Kylos’s own cloak over the young man’s head he bundled him away from the hearth. “I’ll give you “accoutrements”.”

  “Ha! I am sure you might try!” Kylos scoffed as he wriggled free from Aenar’s grip and scrambled to the opposite side of the hearth. “But by the time you are fast enough to catch me and strong enough to keep hold of me, ‘b’zaddi, you will be too old to remember what it is you would like to do with me!”

  “Oh is that so?” Aenar laughed and vaulted the fire with a speed that completely wrong-footed the Morlan.

  Grabbing the young man around the waist he bore him to the ground and pinned him. “Now, you young ingrate, recant!”

  I turned to Markos and raised my eyebrows. “‘B’zaddi?” I asked.

  “It means “beloved brother”,” Markos answered. “A term often used by us when we are seeking qum-shoq.” He looked past me once more at the couple as they wrestled on the frosty ground. “And such conduct is also commonplace—it establishes the lead of the pair and consolidates the bond.”

  “So Kylos is seeking a war-brother?” I said looking pointedly at Kaleb.

  Markos turned away from me slightly to look at his guardsman, “Of course. What else could he be seeking? Kaleb have you anything further you wish to say to me?”

  The man shook his head and stalked away. Markos shrugged an apology. “I rather think Kaleb had hoped that Kylos would be lacing his bracers in the coming battle.”

  It was not so much what might be getting laced as what might be getting unlaced that concerned me. I glanced at the sporting fighters. “And obviously, Kylos has other ideas.” I answered.

  Markos smiled. “Kylos is exceedingly careful and discerning regarding his favour,” Markos told me dropping a casual arm on my shoulder as we headed back towards the camp. “As am I.”

  The sun was just setting as we reached the rocky outcrops surrounding the Dragon Springs and a chill night mist was rolling in behind us from the plains. The men were swift in settling the horses and getting the camp fires set knowing as they did exactly how treacherous and dangerous the winter mists could be.

  At the main hearth Malek and Thaze busied themselves with preparing our meal. Orrin, in his usual odd and mysterious way had somehow managed to melt into the mists and Karyn and Markos had disappeared into the nearby stand of trees to gather wood to replenish our stocks.

  “The morrow should see us at the ferry, Ez’n,” Dthor-Aid’n told me as he settled himself beside me at the fire. “We are making good time.”

  I stared out into the night mists. I only hoped the time we were taking was good enough. There was no way of knowing how far the Black Army had managed to get and neither was there any reliable intelligence concerning their numbers. It was likely, at least according to Dthor-Aid’n, that the force would be a small one—a vanguard probably. They seemed to be selecting soft targets such as the lightly fortified and mainly unprotected villages and towns and this would indicate a small force dedicated to weakening existing defences or preventing the increase in fortification in existing strongholds.

  If the blades the army wielded were as deadly as we were led to believe and could cut through most things effortlessly, then the outlying towns would fall easily to a relatively small force of a hundred or so fighters especially as it seemed they wore armour enchanted in such a way as to be impervious to normal weaponry.

  “We have no way of knowing if the Kosian’s information was completely accurate, Ez’n.” Markos reminded me.

  I nodded. I was aware of that, but it seemed only wise to adopt the worst case scenario and work out a strategy for dealing with the force should we encounter it.

  “Well,” said Ursus, “I am not afraid—we have a wizard at our head. Who could stand against that?”

  “Any archer with a good aim, Ursus. I am not immortal.”

  The man made a growling sound in his throat and spat into the fire. “Ach!” he retorted “Wizard’s do not die that easily.”

  I smiled to myself. Clearly this man had a lot to learn about wizards. I said nothing. Let him have his notion if it gave him comfort. We would probably know soon enough how easily wizard’s died should we encounter the Black Army unprepared.

  Faedron shook my shoulder gently to wake me. “It is our watch, Meriq.”

  I mumbled a curse. “Already? It feels as if I have only just gone to sleep.”

  I rose quickly wrapping myself in my thick cloak before grabbing a tankard of soup from the kettle at the main fire. I glanced around the camp at the men sleeping as if there was no winter cold to gnaw at them. Near the horse picket Aenar was stretched out full length on his back with Kylos sprawled across his chest a small contented smile curving his lips. The veteran’s arm curled around the young man’s waist drawing him closer before moving once more to pull the thick crimson cloak up over the archer’s shoulder and cover the pair more completely.

  As we settled with our backs to the watch fire Faedron glanced back at the picket. “How I envy Kylos,” he whispered taking a mouthful of soup from his tankard. “Would that I could be held thus by Maegor—even for just one night.”

  “Why don’t you ask Dthor to switch watches with you? That way you would pair at night with Maegor.”

  “That would be far too indiscreet,” Faedron answered hotly, “and it would make me appear more forthright towards a man than is proper.”

  Proper in whose world, I wondered? So far as I had seen, there was no such thing as being “too forthright” when it came to courtship in the ranks, no matter the gender; the men simply declared their interest and were either accepted or rebuffed. I sighed heavily. Sometimes Faedron’s logic was just too obscure. “Well then, why have you never said anything to him?” I asked shifting closer to the corporal to gain some extra protection from the biting cold.

  “He has never shown any sign of even being aware of my presence, Meriq. I suppose his eyes are elsewhere. Perhaps the rumours are true and he leans only towards women folk.”

  I made a face. “That would make him a very unusual Zetan soldier,” I observed smiling.

  “It is not unknown, Meriq. Many of t
he men take boys only if there is nothing else available and make little secret of the fact. Besides which, Maegor is not technically a Zetan, he is Kaitani—from the hills”

  True enough, I thought. But even so, I suspected that even Maegor blinkered as he appeared could not be so blind as not to notice how Faedron looked at him.

  We spent the rest of the watch in silence staring out into the night mist, straining eyes and ears for sounds that might be danger. I think I must have dozed off slightly for I suddenly became aware of voices behind me. It was Markos and Jae’nt approaching to relieve us.

  “I don’t care what she said to you, Markos, it is quite obvious that a Zetan will win out in this. It stands to reason.”

  “So you say,” Markos retorted, “but she told me that only a man of remarkable courage and skill could possibly gain favour. You may be prettier and more smooth of tongue than I, but I’ll wager myself against you any time.”

  “Excuse me, gentlemen,” I said rising, “but would you mind continuing this conversation after you have relieved us? I should very much like to get some more sleep.”

  “Yes, Ez’n.”

  “Of course, Ez’n.”

  The pair said in unison. Faedron gave me a sideways looks and I rolled my eyes heavenward. “Well, at least we know the tension between them is nothing more serious than a competition for sexual favour.” I said as Faedron and I settled together.

  “Indeed,” the corporal mumbled, “And I for one can hardly wait to see how it turns out.”

  The sun seemed to rise quickly in the morning, driving the chill mists away almost as soon as it cleared the horizon. I rose quickly telling Faedron that I was going to jump into the hot pools to bathe before anyone else was abroad. He muttered an acknowledgement before turning his attention to the main hearth and stoking it back to fresh life.

  With a brief backward glance I picked my way over the rocky ground to the steaming pool and tossed off my clothing.

  The water was deliciously warm and soothing. I swam and floated for sometime before heading back to the cooler water of the shallows where I stretched out with my head resting on a warm, pillow-shaped rock. Finally sated with the heat I rolled over and made to climb out of the pool freezing in mid movement as I came face to face with the biggest black king snake I had ever seen.

  The creature reared up before me, spreading its hood. The slit-like mouth opened revealing the dark red flesh within and exposing long translucent fangs. It drew itself up and back like a wave gathering to strike. My thoughts froze.

  Suddenly there was a bright silver flash and a dagger blade appeared just below the reptile’s hood. A heartbeat later a sword flashed past my eyes and the snake’s head seemed to leap away from its body. The creature writhed for a few moments and then lay still.

  “Ez’n, are you hurt?”

  “Did it bite you?”

  I stared blankly and Jae’nt and Markos as they waded into the water to help me out.

  I was vaguely aware of them gathering up my clothing which I took from them as the shock of my narrow escape began to clear. I threw on my clothes and fastened my cloak. “I am unhurt, thank you. I am not bitten. Your swift actions made certain of that. I am fortunate that you took it upon yourselves to come and guard me.”

  “These are dangerous times, Ez’n. Orrin alerted me to the fact that you had gone off unaccompanied.”

  “As did Faedron . . .” Jae’nt interjected quickly. “I am thankful that my sword arm was quicker than yon snake.”

  “Your arm?” Markos demanded. “Your arm? I think your blade had nothing to do with it. My dagger had already despatched the serpent.”

  Sensing that a dispute was underway I excused myself quickly leaving the princes arguing over which of them had saved my life and to whom the pelt belonged.

  “The princes seem disturbed.” Dthor-Aid’n observed as I joined him at the hearth.

  “Deranged more like,” I answered.

  “Love will do that to a man,” he answered absently. He glanced beyond me and gestured. I turned to look. The pair had clearly come to an understanding and were returning to the camp Markos carrying the snake’s head and Jae’nt carrying the body.

  “May Zoar have mercy on the poor unfortunate who is the object of their affections,” I said grimly. “Perhaps you should knock their heads together again, or kick their backsides more firmly.” I suggested taking a piece of toasted bread from Karyn with a brief nod of thanks.

  “I do not think their heads are the problem, lad, and I fear it is their sweetmeats and not backsides that need kicking.”

  “Thank you for that image, Captain, I am certain my breakfast will be all the more enjoyable now.”

  The soldier laughed and passed me a bowl of porridge.

  †

  CHAPTER 17

  DISSENT

  WHY MUST it always be the way of the gods to cast obstacles in the paths of those whom they expect to do their bidding? This was a question I pondered often and one which I frequently asked of Anubis. His answer was always the same, but did nothing to alleviate the frustration I felt. It is the way of the gods to strew path of a chosen man with obstacles because the sweat of a man’s endeavour is the savour of their immortal lives. All well and good, father, I would say, but this does not make gods any the less capricious and mean-spirited. Staring at the swell that confronted us as we approached the ferry mooring I concluded that the gods were conspiring to allow as much destruction as possible before we reached our destination.

  The River Tarn, normally a gentle, slow-moving blue serpent was today an angry grey writhing dragon pulling great lumps of ice in its wake as it writhed in its turbulent flight to the distant southern sea.

  “What do you think, Ez’n?” Thaze asked and we reined in our mounts, “Will the ferrymen put to water?”

  “I think we should wait to hear what Aenar and Maegor have to say,” I replied as the soldiers rode towards us.

  “They are refusing to launch, Ez’n,” Aenar said as he drew level with me. “The cables can take the weight and the strain of the waters, but the men are unwilling to risk the moving ice. A sizeable block would reduce the vessel to kindling.”

  “I see. Much as I suspected then,” I answered. “We have no route across at the ford and we have lost a day to divert here.”

  “The risk is too great. Perhaps we should turn back,” Kaleb stated.

  “Perhaps you should hold your tongue,” Dthor-Aid’n snapped. “The Ez’n will decide.”

  “We cannot turn back.” I told the Morlan, “We must cross and find out what these cursed black soldiers are about.”

  So saying I kicked Vyrnath on towards the jetty.

  The ferrymen’s lodge was warm, the air thick with the smell of burning wood and unwashed flesh. The ferrymen were seated at large table near the fire drinking from crude wooden tankards and engaged in conversation, and paid me little heed as I approached them.

  “We must cross to Zendra,” I told the men.

  The Lead Man gave me a cursory glance snorting as he turned back to his comrades. “I told the soldier we will not launch while the ice is breaking.”

  “We are on an urgent mission for King Janir,” I said quietly, “Can I not prevail upon your goodwill to assist us?”

  The Lead Man turned around in his chair to face me full on. “Look, pretty boy, I am not slye and lean only to women so tell your master that sending his bed-warmer to court my favour will not change my mind.”

  The other men laughed and clacked their tankards together. I moved around to where the Lead Man could see me more clearly and threw my cloak back over my left shoulder exposing Anubis’ crest.

  “You should be careful of your tongue, sailor, lest it swell and choke you.” I said with quiet menace.

  Remarking the brooch the Lead Man jumped back in his seat pushing it away from the table. “You—you are his son!” he said making the sign against the evil eye.

  “I am,” I answered throwing b
ack the cowl of my cloak so that the men could see my face clearly and the Ez’n’s circlet even more clearly. “I am Meriq ibid-Syrrith, son of Anubis and Ez’n of Zetaria. You will do as I say.”

  The men fell to their knees almost at once. “Your pardon, Lord Ez’n, we did not recognise you.”

  “That scarcely excuses the foulness of your mouths. I have half a mind to strike you all dumb,” I told the men as I turned away to signal the troop. I turned back giving them a venomous smile, “But fortunately for you only half a mind. Now prepare to launch.”

  I watched as the men hurried away to prepare their craft and smiled to myself. I did not think for a moment that the fact that I was the Ez’n had carried any weight with the men at all. The fact that a royal guardsman did not sway them was evidence enough of that. No. They had acted because I was Anubis’ son and they feared the stories.

  It was said by some that in his youth Anubis had been courted and won by Kalthos the god of magic and sorcery and as part of their union Kalthos had promised that he would give Anubis a son. Quite how two males were to achieve this, I could scarcely imagine though doubtless the attempts would have been all at once immensely enjoyable, equally amusing and without doubt fruitless. But the story was that I was the result of some obscure love rite between sorcerer and god. Some claimed that Kalthos vomited me out after fellatio, while others believed I had been created by the two mixing their seed and was gestated in the Cauldron of Ariya, the Great Mother who had blessed the couple.

  Ridiculously fanciful though the tales were, for I knew I was born of Medran stock, there were still those who would prefer the bizarrely mythical in preference to the boringly factual. Even so, I had to admit there were times when these legends were extremely useful. This was one of those times.

  As the men made ready the Lead Man approached me once more. “Your pardon, Lord Wizard, but this is suicide. If the torrent does not take us the ice will smash us to pieces.”

  I turned away from the man slightly as Dthor-Aid’n approached. “We are ready, Ez’n.” Dthor-Aid’n said, “but the river looks fit to kill.”