Demon Cycle 04 - The Skull Throne

by Peter V. Brett

  It was answered immediately. As Thamos had intended, the sounds of battle had attracted its attention, and the rock was already headed their way. It was a simple matter to lure it along the chosen path.

  Minutes later, the demon moved into view, brushing trees aside like houseplants. Its legs were like columns of black marble, and Rojer could feel the ground shake with each footfall.

  Rojer adjusted his melody, entrancing the creature as he backed toward the narrow pass. When he was confident the coreling was mesmerized, he turned and moved deeper into the pass, trusting it to follow.

  Thamos had chosen the ground well. It would be difficult for the Royals to miss at such range, and the kill would give them all much-needed confidence.

  When he was safely out of the line of fire, Rojer altered his melody again, pushing back at the demon instead of drawing it on. As the great beast stood dazed, Thamos set off a flare that lit the night, illuminating the demon clearly.

  There was a thrumming from the north, and Rojer’s warded eyes saw the Milnese quarrels streak magic through the air and sizzle into the demon’s head and neck. It shrieked in pain, and Rojer lost all control of it. He lowered his fiddle and wrapped his Cloak of Unsight about himself to wait.

  Another round of bolts flew from the Milnese. Rojer could hear their excited shouts as the quarrels struck home.

  But nothing yet from the duke and his brothers. What were they waiting for? Were they too spoiled to work the cranks on their own bows?

  As Gared had predicted, the first bolts only angered the great demon. Mad with pain, it rushed Rojer’s way in a desperate bid to escape the trap. Rojer brought up his fiddle, loud and discordant, driving it back.

  Blocked, the demon ran the other way as the Milnese continued to fire. What were the Royals waiting for?

  The count gave a great cry, he and Gared anchoring the shield wall as the rock demon charged their position. They drove into the demon, attempting to send it stumbling back into the killing ground.

  But having taken only half the fire, the demon was stronger than anticipated, the pain of its wounds giving it a savage strength. The warded shields knocked it back a step, but the demon kept its balance and smashed a giant fist down on the hard ground, shaking two of the Wooden Soldiers from their feet. A lash of its tail into the breach broke one man’s leg, and scattered the others.

  With the battle joined, the bowmen could not fire without chancing to hit the men. Only Gared and Thamos kept control. The count rushed to put himself between the rock demon and the injured man, driving it back with measured thrusts of his spear.

  Mese moved to stand beside Thamos. The rock fought wildly, but not so much that it gave openings the warriors could exploit.

  While the attention was on them, Gared circled around, bashing the demon in the back of one knee with his axe. Its leg collapsed and it fell, catching itself with a clawed arm. The great horned head dipped within reach of Thamos’ charging spear.

  But then another shriek, this one from above as a wind demon swept in, taking a screaming Mese in its hind talons. The lacquered wooden plates of his warded armor glowed fiercely, keeping the claws from puncturing, but they did not protect him from the squeeze as it gripped tighter and spread its wings with a great flap. In an instant, it would take to the sky and Mese would be gone.

  Thamos changed course without missing a beat, sacrificing the killing blow to save the soldier. He seemed to bounce as he twisted to face the new threat, launching his spear just as the wings caught air and the coreling began to rise.

  The count had allotted for the ascent, punching his powerfully warded spear through the demon’s chest when it was a dozen feet in the air. It went limp, crashing back to the ridge with Mese shouting but very much alive.

  The distraction cost Thamos as the recovered rock demon swiped at him, catching the edge of his shield and launching him through the air to land heavily on his back. The demon gave a roar, launching itself at him.

  It would have had the count, but Gared roared and brought his axe down, severing the spiked end of its tail. Spewing ichor, the tail cracked like a whip, knocking Gared from his feet.

  Their sights momentarily clear, the Milnese risked another volley, stinging the demon and giving time for Thamos to snatch the spear Mese had dropped. Rojer looked to the south ridge, but there was no sign the Angierians were even there.

  Thamos bellowed a challenge to draw the demon’s attention from Gared. It hesitated, then struck at him, a measured blow Thamos caught on his shield as he continued to advance.

  He had the demon’s full attention now, and it was unprepared as the other Wooden Soldiers, led by Sergeant Mese himself, found their hearts and charged in.

  Bright with magic, Gared was healing even before he rolled to his feet. He moved in with the angry stride Rojer knew meant the fight had become personal.

  He almost pitied the demon.

  As Thamos and the others harried the demon back, Gared swung his axe two-handed, the Baron of Cutter’s Hollow chopping wedges from the demon’s knee like it was a goldwood tree. In moments he severed the joint entirely, and the demon fell with a boom that shook the entire hill.

  And then, a streak of light from the south, followed quickly by several more. The demon was prone now, an easy target, and the Angierians quickly emptied their quivers. The demon’s head seemed to explode as bolt after bolt struck home.

  Back at the hall, they hung the demon’s great horns above Rhinebeck’s throne in the dining hall, and spent the night drinking and toasting.

  Mese fell to one knee before Thamos, holding the count’s fine spear across his arms. “Your spear, Lord Commander.”

  Thamos held up a hand. “I have others. Keep it, Lieutenant Mese.”

  The man gaped, taking the spear and reverently laying it at the count’s feet as he dropped to both knees. “My spear is always yours, Lord Thamos.”

  He lifted his new spear with a shout. “The lord commander!”

  The other soldiers raised their tankards, sloshing ale. “The lord commander!”

  Rhinebeck and his brothers raised their tankards and drank as well, but Rojer could see hatred and jealousy in their eyes as the men chanted Thamos’ name.

  Thamos looked to Lord Sament. “This is Angierian courage, brothers. This is what you ally beside. The peace of the Pact and the loss of battle wards made us all soft, but the heart of a warrior lies in every Thesan breast. Unite with us, and we will drive the Krasians back to the sands where they belong.”

  Sament crossed his arms. “Bold words, but what of the Hollow? Will you hold to the Pact as well?”

  “The Hollow is mine,” Rhinebeck cut in angrily, “and will do as I command.”

  Thamos grit his teeth, but he nodded. “It is as my brother says.”

  “Do you have a plan for this glorious attack, Lord Commander, or is this just brash talk?” Sament demanded. “Euchor will not commit soldiers for the latter.”

  Thamos nodded. “We send an army to make contact with Lakton and link our forces. Come at Docktown from the land even as the ships of Lakton sweep in from deep water. The siege will be crushed between us, and by the time spring thaws the bodies, we will have secured a permanent border.”

  “And Rizon?” Sament asked.

  “Will not be won in a season, or a year. But when they see the Sharum thrown back, the Rizonans will rise up. They outnumber the Krasians, if only they can regain their spirit.”

  “Your plan takes a lot on faith, brother,” Rhinebeck said.

  “Indeed,” Mickael agreed. “Do you even know how many of the desert rats there are in Docktown?”

  Thamos lost a bit of steam. “Not precisely …”

  “You cannot expect Euchor, or me, to commit men on such vague planning,” Rhinebeck snapped.

  “We have scouts—” Thamos began.

  “Not good enough.” Rhinebeck leveled a finger at him. “You will take fifty Wooden Soldiers south to view the enemy and make contact
with the dockmasters personally. We will see what they have to say of your plan.”

  Thamos blinked, and Rojer could hear the trap snap shut. The duke was giving him what he wanted, but fifty men to cross unfamiliar enemy territory? It was a suicide mission, and Rojer did not doubt the duke knew it.

  Thamos bowed stiffly. “As you command, brother.”

  “I will join you,” Sament said unexpectedly. “With fifty Mountain Spears.”

  Rhinebeck and the other princes looked at him in shock, but the Milnese lord had that eager gleam in his eyes once more, and they knew he meant his words.

  “It’s settled, then,” Rhinebeck said.

  “When do we leave?” Gared asked.

  “The morning after the Bachelor’s Ball,” Rhinebeck said. “But only Thamos will be going to Lakton. You, Baron, will choose your prospective new bride at the ball and return home with her. Hollow County is yours until the count returns.”

  If he returns, Rojer thought.

  CHAPTER 21

  THE WEED GATHERER

  333 AR WINTER

  Amanvah sipped her tea, watching Araine and Leesha coolly.

  “Ask,” she said at last.

  “Ask what, dear?” Araine asked.

  Amanvah set down her cup and saucer. “Even if the dice had not told me your question, it is obvious, given the gossip in your court.”

  Araine did not rise to the bait. “Do enlighten us.”

  “You want to know if I will use the alagai hora to determine the cause of the duke’s inability to father, and if I can cure him with hora magic.”

  Araine stared at her for a long time. “Will you? Can you?”

  Amanvah smiled. “I have already determined the problem, and yes, I could cure it.”

  “But you won’t,” Araine guessed.

  “Would you, in my place?” Amanvah asked.

  “Why tell us to ask, if you have no intention of helping?” Leesha asked. “Why cast your dice at all?”

  “Even dama’ting cannot resist a mystery,” Amanvah said. “And I have helped you, by telling you it is possible. The rest you will have to learn for yourselves. I am here as Rojer’s Jiwah Ka, not a spy … or a ginjaz.”

  “Ginjaz?” Leesha asked.

  “Turncoat.” Araine’s face had darkened. “You’re a long way from home, Princess. We may yet convince you.”

  Amanvah shook her head. “Nothing you can offer will change my mind, nor torture pull from my lips what I do not wish you to know. Solve your own problems.”

  “If we fail to, you may be handing Angiers to Duke Euchor,” Leesha said. “He’d declare himself king, and make war upon your people soon after.”

  Amanvah shrugged. “You seek that as well, or you are a coward. It does not matter. My father is the Deliverer. When he returns to claim your people, they will bow to him. I have no interest in your politicking in the meantime.”

  “And if your father does not return?” Araine asked in Krasian. “If the Warded Man killed him in Domin Sharum?”

  “The dice would have told me if my father was dead,” Amanvah said. “But if it were so, then the Par’chin is the Deliverer, and your people will be claimed all the same.”

  “You don’t know Arlen at all, if you think that,” Leesha said. “He has no interest in thrones.”

  “So long as your spears are pledged to him in the night,” Amanvah said. “As with my father. But deny this, as the Andrah and Duke of Rizon did, and the Deliverer will take them from you.”

  “You’ll forgive me,” Araine said, “if I need more convincing than that before I hand over my duchy to an invading army, or a farm boy from a hamlet the size of my sitting room.”

  Amanvah bowed. “It is not my place to convince you, Duchess. It is inevera.”

  “Is that Everam’s will, or your mother’s?” Araine asked mildly.

  Amanvah gave a gentle shrug of her silk-clad shoulders. “They are one and the same.”

  Araine nodded. “Thank you for your candor, Princess, and for your help, such as it was. Will you excuse us, now? I wish to speak to Mistress Leesha in private.”

  “Of course,” Amanvah said, her tone and bearing making it seem her own idea to leave as she rose and glided from the room.

  Wonda peeked her head in as the woman left. “Need anythin’?”

  “All is well, Wonda, thank you,” Araine said before Leesha could speak. “Please see we are not disturbed.”

  “Ay, Mum.” Wonda seemed to nod with her whole body as she backed out and closed the door.

  “Insufferable woman,” Araine muttered.

  “Wonda?” Leesha asked.

  Araine waved in irritation. “Of course not. The sand witch.”

  Leesha dipped a biscuit in her tea. “You don’t know the half.”

  “Can we trust her?” Araine asked.

  “Who can say?” Leesha lifted the biscuit, but she had soaked it too long and the end broke off in the cup. “This is the same woman who slipped blackleaf into my tea on her mother’s orders.”

  Araine raised an eyebrow at that. “No wonder you’ve a distaste for weeds. So she’s more interested in politicking than she claims.”

  “She’s more than she claims,” Leesha agreed, “though she’s proven trustworthy enough since marrying Rojer. I don’t think she’s lying now, but neither do I think we have the whole truth. She may have hinted us toward a cure because the dice tell her it will weaken the North to keep the duchies divided. Or hidden the cause of Rhinebeck’s problem because Euchor will overreach and bring civil war to Thesa even as the Krasians press north.”

  Araine squeezed lemon into her tea, though it seemed her mouth could wrinkle no farther than it already had. “I don’t suppose you can make a set of these dice yourself?”

  Leesha shook her head. “Even if we stole a proper set, I haven’t a clue how to read them. It takes years of study, as I understand it, and is more art than science.”

  Araine sighed. “Then for all our sakes, I hope you can succeed where every other Gatherer in my employ has failed. It’s pointless to guess at prophecies, even if I believed in such things.”

  Leesha awoke with a start at the knocking. Her face was numb, and as she rubbed it she could feel the imprint of the book she had fallen asleep on. There was drool on the pages.

  What time was it? The room was dark save for the glow of the chemical lamp on her table, illuminating the pile of books of old world medicine she had been studying. Wonda had turned down the lamps when she retired.

  The knocking came again.

  Leesha cinched her dressing gown tightly as she went to the door, but she had put on weight in recent months, and it strained in the front. She clutched the top in one hand to keep it closed.

  Who could it be? She thought to call for Wonda, but they were in the center of the palace, with guards everywhere. If she wasn’t safe here, she wasn’t safe anywhere.

  But her free hand slipped into her pocket, clutching her hora wand as she let go her gown to open the door.

  Rojer stood there, and looking haggard. “We need to talk.”

  Leesha relaxed instinctively, but Rojer had a look about him that filled her with dread. What was he doing back so soon? Everyone had expected the duke and his entourage to be away in the hunting lodge a week at least, but they had been gone but a single night.

  “Is everything all right?” Leesha felt her chest constrict. “Is Thamos …”

  “He’s fine,” Rojer said. “He led the party to bring down a rock demon last night. Hunting rockbirds and boar had little allure after that, and I think everyone wanted to be back in the city to ponder what they saw.”

  Leesha breathed out her sudden panic. Thamos had sworn not to wed her with another man’s child in her belly, but with Araine’s support, she had begun to hope once more. If anything happened to him …

  “Mistress Leesha?” Wonda was in the doorway to her chambers, rubbing sleep from her face. The knife in her hand was the size of Leesha’s fo
rearm. “Heard voices. You okay?”

  “Fine, Wonda,” Leesha said. “It’s only Rojer. Go back to bed.”

  The woman nodded, her shoulders drooping as she turned to stumble back to her pillow.

  Leesha opened the door to admit Rojer, and he walked in a little too swiftly, jerking his head this way and that as his eyes searched the room. “Is anyone else here?”

  “Of course not,” Leesha said. “Who else …”

  Rojer looked decidedly uneasy. “Thamos hasn’t been to see you?”

  “No,” Leesha said. “Why? You’re scaring me, Rojer. What’s happened?”

  Rojer shook his head. His voice was so low she could barely hear. “Ears everywhere.”

  Leesha frowned, but she went to the jewelry box where she kept her hora, opening small drawers to take the appropriate bones. These she arranged in a circle around two chairs. She slipped her warded spectacles on, making sure the wards linked and the circle activated.

  “There.” She picked up the servant’s bell and moved to the circle, reaching her arm past the wards and ringing the bell vigorously. She saw the clapper strike, felt the vibration, but neither she nor Rojer heard a sound.

  She took a seat, waiting for Rojer to join her. “Not a sound will pass through the circle. We can scream at the top of our lungs, and Wonda will keep snoring twenty feet away. Now what’s so secret you couldn’t even whisper it in an empty room?”

  Rojer blew out a breath. “I think Rhinebeck and his brothers tried to kill Thamos last night.”

  Leesha blinked. “You think?”

  “It was a … passive attempt.” Rojer quickly related how the duke’s group had held their fire when the battle seemed to be going against Thamos, only shooting when victory seemed assured. “They didn’t try to hurt him themselves, but from where I stood, they seemed content to let the demons do the job for them.”

  “There must be some other explanation,” Leesha said. “Perhaps there was a problem with their weapons.”