by William King
‘My mother, most blessed of matrons, has won us potent allies. From the far northern Chaos Wastes, hundreds of thousands of the followers of the Dark Gods have come to enter our service – although they do not know that yet.’
His last remark was met with a storm of cruel laughter. All of them knew that the humans were mere spear fodder for their asur kindred. The humans would not share in the rewards, Malekith intended to see to that. He had a plan for dealing with them at the end of the campaign that would ensure that was the case. He had no intention of letting his mother keep that particular sword hanging over his neck.
‘The force that will accompany us is only a small portion of the human strength. The vast majority of it already sails towards the northern coast of Ulthuan. Of course, it will be spotted by the patrols of the false Phoenix King. The rebels think that that is where the blow will fall and a large proportion of their strength is being diverted to meet that threat. It will be a long time before they realise what is truly happening.’
‘I do not intend to rely upon humans to reclaim my rightful kingdom. The honour and duty of that falls upon you, my loyal subjects. You are the ones who will lead in my righteous conquest and reunite the kingdoms. You are the ones who will do the important fighting and you will claim the true rewards of victory. You are the ones upon whom failure will press most heavily.’
All mirth vanished as he spoke the last sentence. They had heard him promise rewards. They knew that he would punish failure as he always did. He had let them know who their master was. It was a task that needed to be performed on a regular basis given the nature of his subjects and their ruthless ambitions.
‘Your forces are smaller in number but much greater in skill. You are the ones who will conquer cities and fortresses and claim them to your own.’
Once again he dangled the rewards in front of them and watched them salivate. He had specifically stated that they might claim what they conquered for their own. He could see them performing the calculations almost visibly. Here was a chance that would not come again in their lifetimes to extend their estates, increase their flocks of slaves, bolster their fortunes and surround their names with glory.
‘Some of you will lead armies overland in pursuit of great strategic goals. Some of you will have other duties.’
They were wondering now what he meant by that. Did he mean to punish some of them by denying them the right of conquest and holding them back from the front line of the war? Or did he mean something else? He let them wonder for a few more moments while he let his eyes rest upon each of them in turn.
‘All of you must know now that I have made great magical allies and summoned them from the realms beyond our world. All of you are wondering why I have done this when I can rely implicitly on your own warlike skills. The answer is very simple. One of the allies that I have summoned will give us the keys to victory, will let us overcome every enemy army, take every enemy fortress and reach the furthest extent of the rebel kingdom, before our foes even know that we are there.’
A look of concentration passed over every face now – they were all wondering exactly how he proposed to achieve this miraculous feat. It was something that had eluded the greatest of sorcerers through all of the ages and they were wondering whether their king had finally gone mad.
‘All of you must know this. I, your king, have bound one of the greatest foes of our people into my service.’
He gestured and N’Kari’s true form was revealed. The great four limbed monster towered over every living thing in the room. It flexed claws that could shear through the thickest armour. It roared and the very sound was thrilling and terrifying.
All of the druchii present, even the bravest, flinched. They wore the same expressions on their faces as they would have if he’d introduced a pack of starving lions into the room.
‘Before you stands N’Kari, the Keeper of Secrets, the daemon defeated and banished by my father, who led the Rape of Ulthuan, who was once the greatest foe of all our people. I, Malekith the Great, son of Aenarion have bound this beast to my service. I have done this knowing full well that given the chance, this foul thing will betray us if it can and knowing that, I will not allow it to do so. I have bound this creature not because I need it to fight for us, although it will kill anyone I tell it to.’
Malekith paused for a beat to let them consider that piece of information. None of them wanted to be the victim of a greater daemon. None of them would go against him in any way while they thought that was a possibility. He wanted them to fully consider the consequences of any rebellion against him.
Particularly, given the fact that he had bound a daemon that was a sworn enemy of their people. He thought it best to get the information out there in the open and to use it for his own advantage.
‘The reason I have taken this creature into my service is because it knows the secrets of how to pass swiftly, secretly and unstoppably through the island-continent of Ulthuan. It has done so before and it has taken an army with it. Cast your minds back over a century to the rumours that came out of Ulthuan then. I am in a position to tell you that those rumours were true and that what the merchants of the marketplace whispered is exactly what happened.’
He could see shocked looks passing around the room now. He was giving them a lot to think about in a very short space of time, but he knew they were capable of absorbing it. He also knew it was best to give it to them all at once on his own terms, rather than wait for it to come out piecemeal.
‘Of course, my servant failed then because it did not have the force that we have, or the skill at warfare, or the knowledge of when and where it is appropriate to attack. We can succeed where N’Kari failed and we will do so because it is our destiny.
‘With the service of this bound daemon we shall be able to move so swiftly that our enemies will not know where we are or how to stop us before it is too late. We will be able to amass our forces to overwhelm our enemies before they know what has hit them. This more than anything else will give us a victory. This time all of Ulthuan will be ours. This time we will succeed. This time victory is inevitable.’
Malekith allowed some of his own enthusiasm to show in his voice. He could see that it was being communicated to his followers by his words and his gestures. All of them had sufficient knowledge of matters military to understand what an enormous advantage N’Kari would give them. All of them were nervous about the presence of the daemon but all of them could see exactly why it was there. There was silence for many heartbeats and even Malekith felt the tension in the room.
After a silence of long moment, all of them cheered. After an initial hesitation all of them were as convinced as he was that victory was their destiny.
‘On the table,’ Malekith said, ‘you will find your orders. These are sealed and you will communicate them to no one except where you are authorised to do so. All of you have a part to play in this great victory. All of you will share in the spoils of victory. All of you will be part of the great historical process of reuniting the kingdom. All of you will be remembered for as long as that kingdom exists and elves gather to talk about great military triumphs.’
The elven nobles present almost came to blows in their haste to reach the table. He knew then that he had them. Then he saw the smile on the face of the daemon and wondered why it looked so happy.
Chapter Eight
Weary almost beyond belief, Tyrion and his companions emerged from the swamp. The last few leagues had been the worst part. They had wandered from the jungle into the marshes surrounding Skeggi. The ground had become treacherous quicksand, mud and stagnant pools filled with the spores of the worst diseases.
All of them except Teclis were covered in filth. His magic had protected him from that. Yet, despite the weariness, despite the dirt, despite the loathsome nature of their surroundings, all of them were triumphant. They had made it all the way back from Zultec without lo
sing anybody else. And the humans were filled with the knowledge that they were rich, while the elves knew that they were going to be even more famous very soon.
Ahead of them they could see the strange wooden longhalls that made up the bulk of the dwellings in Skeggi. They resembled the halls of the Norsemen back in the Old World, but in one important respect they were different – they stood upon stilts that raised them above the mud. Those buildings on the outskirts of the city needed them. Some of them sat in small algae-scummed lakes that resembled moats. The only way to get to them was either by small boat, rope-bridge or by jumping across the stumps of chopped down trees that made up a kind of stepping stone.
Right now the party was up to their waists in muddy water and starting to draw attention from the natives. They were very conspicuous – two tall elves and a small group of survivors from what had been a much larger party when it set out. Some of those present recognised Tyrion, some of them recognised Leiber. All of them were curious as to what the party had done and how they had survived.
Now came the tricky part. Skeggi was a dreadful place, lawless, ruled by feuding warlords and bandit gangs. It combined the worst aspects of Norse society and that of the theoretically more civilised Old World. Some of the people greeting them now might decide to rob them in a few moments, once a sufficiently large gang of allies had assembled.
They would make formidable foes too. Most of those present were tall, strapping warriors descended from the Norse. They were blond-haired with golden, tanned skins and broad-shouldered, muscular bodies. All of them were armed with heavy axes or sharp swords. After the rigours of the past few weeks Tyrion should not have been too bothered, but he knew the perils of over-confidence and he did not want to fall victim to a random robbery when he was so close to returning to Lothern in triumph.
‘If we are attacked, burn as many as possible with the most spectacular magic you can summon,’ he said to Teclis in elvish. ‘If you should happen to set a few buildings alight in the process so much the better.’
‘And what will you be doing while I commit these theatrical acts of arson?’
‘I will be killing as many people as I can in the most disgustingly bloody fashion I can manage. If we make an example of enough of them, the rest will leave us alone.’
‘It’s nice to hear you being so cheerful now that we are so close to safety.’
‘No one is safe in Skeggi,’ Tyrion said. ‘The priests of the goddess of mercy will pick your pocket while they stick a dagger in your back.’
‘They are somewhat unorthodox in the way they practise their faith,’ said Teclis. ‘It’s always the way. Heretical sects breed in these out of the way places.’
‘Joke about it all you like but be ready…’ Tyrion said.
In the distance, Tyrion could see the monstrous brutal structure of the fortress. It was the size of a small town and had been built by a dozen generations of raider lords on the site of the original keep of Losteriksson, the town’s legendary founder. The only thing that came close to being as noticeable was the giant barrow that had grown over the spot where Losteriksson had first set foot on this land.
As they progressed deeper into town, more and more people swarmed around them. Some were menacing-looking Norse warriors, others were the sort of shipwrecked wharf rats from the Old World. A few tired looking prostitutes shouted half-hearted terms of endearment at the elves and their companions.
‘Leiber, you made it back, I am surprised,’ roared someone who obviously recognised their guide. ‘You finally find all that lost gold you always raved about?’
It was a leading question if Tyrion had ever heard one, and it was the one most likely to trigger a bloodbath if the wrong answer was given. They had talked about this all the way back but there was no telling what the humans would do now that they were back among their own kind.
In a way Tyrion was glad they had only taken the sword and a few keepsakes. There was not very much for their companions to kill them over. The humans were more likely to get themselves into trouble than the two elves. Of course, that would not make very much difference if they got dragged into a needless fight.
‘I got more than enough to buy your mother,’ said Leiber. ‘But then that only ever cost a couple of coppers anyway, and she would give change.’
It was a good answer. It told the listeners that it was none of their business what Leiber had found and that they could expect only insults if they asked. The question was whether it would be enough to ensure they were left alone.
They pushed through the teeming streets of the town, trying to ignore all of the people staring at them. The fortress loomed over them, bringing back memories of a previous visit that Tyrion would have preferred to forget. He had spent some time in chains in that horrible place and he was determined that it would never happen again.
As they walked on, a sense of ending came over him. He was soon going to have to say goodbye to the humans. Most likely he would never see any of them again. The people he had known on his previous visits to Skeggi were all dead or withered ancients. Human lives were so brief that once their paths separated he was unlikely to come across them again, or if he did they would be so changed as to be almost unrecognisable to him.
He was not sure why this troubled him. He felt a certain attachment to these men as he would to any comrades with whom he had shared dangers. It seemed that the humans felt the same way because one or two of them were staring at him sidelong.
He sensed that they were at once relieved and saddened by this parting of the ways. They had found what they were looking for. They were wealthy men. Perhaps they felt grateful to Tyrion and his brother for providing them with this wealth or perhaps it was something else entirely, he could not be sure. All he knew was that by the time they had reached a crossroads at the centre of the town, all of them knew that their quest together was over. They were walking more slowly, starting to look at each other in a vaguely embarrassed way.
Leiber was the first to speak. ‘It looks like we will be going our separate roads. I just want to say that it was an honour and a privilege travelling with you. I hope one day that we might be able to do it again.’
If he did not sound entirely sincere, at least he was trying to be polite, Tyrion thought. He felt like he was being called upon to answer on behalf of himself and his brother so he said, ‘We could not have asked for better travelling companions.’
The humans all nodded and Tyrion found himself shaking hands with his companions. A few moments later they had started to drift apart, most of the humans heading towards one of the low taverns which filled the streets of Skeggi. Tyrion looked at Teclis and smiled sourly, ‘It will not take long before word of our discovery is common knowledge in this port.’
‘What do you propose that we do about that, brother?’
‘There is nothing we can do. We just need to hope that the local robbers don’t decide to pay us a visit. It would not surprise me to find out that Leiber and the other lads were found in the gutter with their throats cut by this time tomorrow.’
‘And you want us to avoid that fate?’
‘It would seem sensible, wouldn’t it? After all, it would be bitterly ironic if we survived all our adventures only to get ourselves killed in some back alley in this gods-forsaken place.’
‘Then I think the first thing we should do is look for a ship out of here.’
‘That might just be putting ourselves at the mercy of one of the local pirate captains. They are as much cutthroats as most of the people around here, probably more so.’
‘Then perhaps we should look for a trading ship that will take us all the way back to Ulthuan.’
‘I suppose that means that you’re going to suggest we head down to the docks right now.’
‘No time like the present!’
The harbour at Skeggi was a makeshift place of rickety wooden piers f
lanked by the local longhouses. There were no great warehouses, only the fortified dwellings of the local chieftains. There was a white sand beach on which long ships were drawn up.
Looking as out of place in the harbour as a swan among a flock of ducks was an elven clipper bearing the arms of House Emeraldsea, a golden ship on a field of green. Tyrion was even more surprised by the fact he recognised the vessel. It was the Eagle of Lothern, on which he had voyaged during that long ago time when he and his brother had first been summoned back to Lothern.
It was the last thing he would have expected to see in this shabby human town. There was only one reason for one of the great trading vessels belonging to their mother’s family to be here – it was seeking himself and his brother. Then he noticed something else. The vessel was flying a black flag.
Someone very important had died.
A sudden shock passed through him as he wondered who it could be? He hoped it was no one in his own house. He had not seen such a flag since his grandfather had died. He hoped it was not someone else that he loved – like Lady Malene.
Two other possibilities sprang immediately to mind – it might be the Phoenix King or the Everqueen. It seemed unlikely that Finubar was dead. He was still very young for an elf and it was unlikely that anything but violence could have killed him.
It was not unknown for a Phoenix King to be assassinated or to be killed in battle but, as far as Tyrion knew, the elves were not at war with anyone. At least they had not been when he and his brother had left Lothern. Had some major conflict blown up that he had missed? It galled him that he might have lost a chance to win glory for himself and his family.
He saw that someone on the crow’s nest was waving at him. They had already been spotted through a spyglass and it looked like someone on the ship wanted to make contact with them.
Teclis came up beside him and spoke softly, ‘This does not look good.’