The Hero of Varay vm-2

by Rick Shelley

  "What happened?" I demanded.

  "This is supposed to be secret, Your Highness," one worker said, his voice quaking. He couldn't take his eyes off my drawn sword. I put it back over my shoulder.

  "Has the king died?" It didn't compute. Lunch had been starting as normal upstairs, and the atmosphere would have been much different if the king had just died.

  "No, Highness," the same worker said, bobbing his head low-over and over. "But the Lord Chamberlain set us to working himself. He fears the worst, he said. A secret. It was to be a secret."

  I didn't bother to ask anything else. I just turned and started running up the stairs. I had more than a passing interest in King Pregel's health. It wasn't just that he was my great-grandfather or that I was extremely fond of him. I was also his heir designate, and I certainly wasn't ready to become King of Varay. Frankly, I didn't care if I ever inherited that job.

  There are 108 steps between the catacombs and the level of the great hall. The steps are low, but too deep to take them two at a time. My legs ached by the time I finished climbing them. Kardeen wasn't at lunch in the great hall-he rarely ate there-so I had to go on to his office. I went right past his clerk without stopping.

  Kardeen and Parthet were at the chamberlain's desk. They had old scrolls scattered all over the desk and floor. Kardeen was a stickler for order. His desk was always neat. I had never seen the office in such a mess.

  "I've just come up from the crypt," I said when Kardeen looked up. "What's going on?"

  "His Majesty's health has worsened dramatically this morning," Kardeen said, very softly. "You mother is with him. She doesn't think he can make it back this time."

  "He has to," I said, but I wasn't talking to Kardeen and Parthet any longer. I was already on my way out the door.

  "Come to my workroom after you see the king," Parthet shouted after me. I nodded, but I don't know if he saw the gesture.

  I ran all the way upstairs and pulled up short just outside the door to the king's bedroom so I could catch my breath before I opened the door and went in. There wasn't much light in the chamber-just an oil lamp burning on a table near the side of grandfather's bed, and it was turned down low. Mother was sitting in a straight chair next to the head of the bed. She turned when she heard me come in and held a finger to her mouth so I would be quiet. As if I might come in shouting dirty jokes or something. Mother took a close look at the king, then got up and came across the room to me.

  "Let's go out in the hall," she whispered.

  "What happened?" I asked when the door was closed between the king and us.

  "He's been doing poorly. You know that," Mother said. "This morning, he heard the commotion downstairs and somebody told him about the dragon eggs. It seemed to take all the fight out of him. All his vitals are getting bad."

  "Why don't we get him to a real hospital then? Get Doc McCreary to take care of him there."

  "It wouldn't help. The King of Varay is tied too tightly to the magic of this place. Leaving Varay now would almost certainly kill him."

  "And if we don't move him?"

  Mother shook her head. "I'm even afraid to leave him long enough to go for Hank McCreary," she said. "Anyway, by the time he could get here…"

  I don't think I completely managed to suppress the growl that was my reaction to that kind of dead-end thinking.

  "Why don't you take a break?" I suggested, as evenly as possible. "Powder your nose or stretch your legs, or something. Give me a few minutes alone with him."

  Mother wanted to argue, I could see that in her eyes, but she shut her mouth before the first word of protest could get out. I was relieved when she nodded and started for the stairs. If she hadn't gone on her own, I would have carried her off, and I'm fairly certain that she realized that. I know it sounds horrible, and maybe it was, but I had to have some time alone with Pregel and-as Hero and heir-I had that right. And Mother… well, I'll leave it at this: I still hadn't forgotten that she and Dad had completely concealed Varay and my heritage from me until I was twenty-one and Dad was in trouble, already dead, actually. They had programmed me to take over as Hero from the time I was a baby. After living their lie for twenty-one years, my patience with my mother could get ragged in a hurry.

  I went back inside the bedroom, lengthened the wick on the oil lamp that was burning, lit a second, then pulled the drapes open on the window to let some daylight in. Mother had the room so gloomy that it might already have been the king's lying-in-state.

  "Grandfather?" I walked up along the side of the bed nearest to him. His face was pasty white, his cheeks unshaven for several days. His thin hair was disheveled. He didn't open his eyes or move. I sat on the edge of the bed and laid my hand on his chest, lightly, feeling the slight movement as he breathed, the even fainter pulse.

  "Grandfather. It's Gil." His eyelids flickered a little. There was a little movement at the edges of his mouth. He seemed to breathe just a little deeper.

  "I've got good news," I said. I figured that it was good news anyhow. If the story about the dragon eggs had sapped him, maybe I could give him back a little vigor. "A dragon was sitting out near Cayenne this morning. They called me to take care of it. I went out there and scared the dragon off. I went 'shoo' and it skedaddled."

  He opened his eyes and stared up at me.

  "Truth," I said. Well, it was close to the truth. "The last we saw of the dragon, it was hightailing it into the Titan Mountains. Lesh, Harkane, and Timon were with me."

  He may have smiled a little.

  "Of course, it wasn't the biggest dragon ever, but it was big enough, and it turned tail and ran."

  I was sure of the smile then. It was weak, but clearly visible.

  "You'd better hurry and perk up here, Grandfather. I've got work enough of my own to do without worrying about doing your job as well."

  The smile got a little wider as his eyes slid closed. I held my hand on his chest for another minute or so. He was still alive. I thought maybe he was doing a little better. I couldn't be sure.

  Parthet had two rooms in the castle, one over the other, in the northeast tower. The lower room was his workshop or laboratory. The other was a bedroom. He still had his cottage in the forest, but it seemed that the only time he used it anymore was when he just wanted to get completely away from everybody else. That wasn't too often. His social instincts were strong. And since I had made him keep glasses with a current prescription, he was in more demand for his wizardry.

  I let Mother back into Pregel's room-she was just coming back down the hallway when I opened the door-and then I went on to Parthet's shop. The chamberlain was there with him. They were still going through scrolls and books.

  Parthet's tower was narrower than the tower that held Kardeen's offices. Parthet's rooms were only about fifteen feet in diameter, and the lower one was in the state of disarray that I always associated with my uncle. The only thing I spotted in the room that was new since my last visit was a large glass vat-about five gallons large-sitting in the center of Parthet's work table. The elf head was in the vat, eyes closed, long hair floating toward the top of the alcohol that came to within an inch of the lid. Like seaweed.

  "When are you going to get rid of that damn thing?" I snapped, pointing at the head.

  "When he can't do us any more good," Parthet snapped back.

  "It's sick. Maybe you can make him talk to you, but I bet his father has even less trouble hearing him. I'd just as soon the Elflord of Xayber didn't have a pressing reason to turn his attention to us again."

  "We may be damn lucky to have Junior there with us," Parthet said.

  Kardeen cleared his throat and cut off any reply I might have made to Parthet. "We heard that you were off chasing a dragon."

  I nodded and gave them the capsule summary.

  "That sounds encouraging," Kardeen said, glancing at Parthet.

  "It's about time something sounded encouraging," the wizard growled. "Look. We've gone through so many musty old tomes
this morning that I've just now stopped sneezing from all the dust. Some of the ancient books of lore are maddeningly vague or ambiguous, but as near as I can gather, things like chickens laying dragon eggs are among the signs of the End of Everything, or the complete domination of Fairy over all three realms, or your choice of total, top-of-the-heap, major-league disasters.

  "You don't know which?" I asked, as if it made a difference.

  "Hard to tell for sure, but it looks like the complete scrambling of everything, even the lords of Fairy, at the very least. Not much solace in that." He looked at the severed head.

  "Is there any way to reverse the trend?" I asked. "Any way to stave off the collapse or whatever?"

  "The ancient treatises make a point of saying that there is a cure for any ill. The problem is that we can't find out what the cure is, or exactly what we have to cure. But he might know." Parthet pointed at the head again.

  "Okay, but what have you got to trade?" I asked.

  "What do you mean?" Parthet asked, letting his arm drop.

  "He's dead. He's an elf. I doubt that even your truth spells will be very effective on him now. You'll have to do a deal, and what can a dead elf want?"

  Parthet looked at the elf's head, then back at me. "Okay, what?"

  I shrugged. "I didn't say that I knew the answer, just the question. Why don't you ask him?"

  Parthet went to the glass vat, took off the lid, and set it aside. He started mumbling one of his obscure, incoherent chants as he reached in and grabbed a handful of hair. He lifted the elf's head out of the raw alcohol and held it over the vat while the whiskey dripped off the head.

  The eyelids opened and madly bloodshot eyes-in a head that didn't have a drop of blood left-started to look around. The elf looked at Parthet, at me, and at as much of the room as he could see. Baron Kardeen was behind the elf, out of sight.

  The son of Xayber opened his mouth. The first sound out was a monstrous, drunken belch, followed by a badly slurred, "Where's the rest of me?"

  7 – Two Heads

  I almost choked myself cutting off a laugh, but I guess that none of the others were familiar with that line. People in Varay might recognize the name Ronald Reagan, but I doubt that anyone (with the possible exception of my mother) had seen any of his movies; there are no movie theaters or television in Varay. And the question didn't sound nearly as funny the second time the elf asked it.

  "Where's the rest of me?"

  "We have some questions for you," Parthet said, throwing in a few totally incomprehensible words of magic for good measure.

  "Where is my body?"

  "Tell him," I said, even though I realized that we might be throwing away a bargaining chip.

  "It's safe," Parthet said, turning the head so they could look at each other eye to eye. "It's here in the castle." I thought that was a nice compromise. Tell the elf but don't tell him all of it.

  The elf started a singsong chant. I felt his sword getting warm on my back and I could see Parthet's face getting red. The wizard went back to his own chanting.

  "Enough, dammit!" I shouted. I whipped the hot sword off my back and touched the tip of the blade to the elf's upper lip.

  "You recognize this?" I asked.

  "I know my own," he replied.

  "You know who I am and why I'm wearing your sword?"

  "I know."

  "You came here disguised and tried to kill me. You lost and I killed you," I reminded him. "I took your head straight off, in case you missed the details. It wasn't even a difficult stroke. Your head bounced off the table and then it just sat there and couldn't believe what had happened. Now, either you help us or we bury you in pieces with a day's worth of shit." I was starting to get as touchy as Uncle Parthet.

  The detached face lost its belligerent look, but slowly. After we both had a moment to cool off, I started to tell him about all of the crazy things that were happening, in the mortal world and in the buffer zone, and my guess that they had to be reflected in Fairy, that his death might even have been part of the weirdness. He took the news about the dragon eggs very seriously, but without any of the histrionics that Parthet had displayed.

  "What do I get for my help?" the elf asked, as I had known he would. "A negative thing is not enough."

  "You know what has to be done to stop this madness?" I asked.

  "I know. I'll even tell you the nature of the solution, and then we can bargain for my hire. Simply knowing the solution won't help you. And maybe I won't bother to tell you how to achieve the solution even. It can mean no difference to me now what happens."

  "Okay, how do we stop whatever it is that's happening?" I asked.

  "You merely have to find the balls of the Great Earth Mother and bring them together."

  It took a couple of seconds for my brains to catch up with my instincts. The elf wasn't being a smartass. Uncle Parthet had told me the story once, the creation legend that was accepted as gospel in the seven kingdoms.

  Back in the chaos before creation, the Great Earth Mother wandered around (and the legends aren't specific about where she was wandering, since nothing had been created for her to wander around on), looking for a mate (and where he came from was glossed over as completely as where Cain and Abel found their wives). After looking around "from before infinity to beyond infinity" and getting hornier all the time (except that time hadn't started to run yet), the Great Earth Mother found her stud and got laid so that the world and heavens could all be created. Then, sometime after it was over, the Great Earth Mother decided that she liked the universe they had created together but she couldn't stand the mate who had helped make it possible, so she did a black-widow number on him, but kept his gonads for souvenirs, just in case.

  And the son of the Elflord of Xayber was telling us that we had to find these family jewels in order to keep the whole shebang from coming to an end… the End of Everything, to give the phrase the same inflection that Parthet had used.

  "You have any idea where we can find these… balls?" I asked.

  "I know precisely where they are. But they will cost you more than you ever expected to pay for anything."

  I waited for the other shoe to drop, but the elf was waiting too, and he had more time than I did.

  "What do you want?" I asked eventually.

  "I would shrug if I had shoulders to command," he said, letting his eyes wander for a few seconds. "What can you offer that makes it worth my while?"

  I hesitated for a long moment before I answered. "I can see that you are properly laid out, head and body, so you can find whatever peace there is for your kind." Parthet started to protest, but I held up a hand to silence him. "I will give you my personal promise of that, the vow of the Hero of Varay." After that, there was nothing Parthet could say-if the elf accepted the deal.

  "It's not enough," the elf told me though.

  "Just what are we supposed to do with these family jewels once we get them?" I asked-a distraction, something to give me a little extra time to try to think of a cheap way to sweeten the pot.

  "Now, that would be giving away too much," the elf said. "I need something to hold back as a guarantee."

  "As a guarantee for what?" I asked.

  "Ah, I just figured that out. My price is that you-you personally, Hero of Varay-take me home to my father. All of me, head and body."

  "No!" Parthet said, preempting any reply from me. "That is an impossible request. This is the heir to Varay."

  "As I was heir to Xayber?" the elf said. "Very well. You've made your decision. And I have made mine. There is no other price."

  Parthet threw the head across the room, off a wall. The head rebounded with a soft squish and fell almost straight down. I went over and picked the head up, by the hair, just the way Parthet had held it. I wanted to puke but didn't. Couldn't. I thought to say something, but I couldn't decide what to say, so I just returned the head to its vat of alcohol and put the cover on.

  Parthet and Kardeen followed me out of the work
room. I rubbed my hand on my jeans, trying to get rid of the memory of even holding that head.

  "Unless you've got another way to locate these relics, if they exist, then he has us over the proverbial barrel," I said once we were well away from die room.

  "But we may have all we need from him," Parthet said. "He told us what the cure is. All we have to do is find the pieces."

  "That seems to be a big enough job," I said.

  "Maybe not. We might have references here that will help. In fact, even without looking I think I can narrow the search down. The family jewels of the Great Earth Mother will be found in two of her shrines-two different ones, some distance apart," Parthet said.

  "But you don't know which shrines," I said.

  "Not yet, but I may be able to find out, or at least narrow the possibilities to a manageable number."

  "How many shrines are there?"

  Kardeen answered that. "There must be hundreds, more likely thousands, scattered throughout all three realms.

  "All three realms? I don't remember coming across any in my world," I said.

  "Few of those are in decent condition," Parthet said, distracted. "Most are passed off as ancient archaeological sites and plundered. Avedell, your mother, could likely pinpoint at least a score of them. She made quite a study of it when you were a child. The ring of stones at Stonehenge was one such shrine, once upon a time."

  "Then if one of the jewels was in that world, it might have been carted off to a museum, or lost, or something."

  "Possible, but unlikely," Parthet said. "They must be the most powerful magic artifacts in creation. Their presence would cause things to happen. And the Great Mother Earth is unlikely to have left them without suitable protection."

  "Like what?"

  "I may know more after I do my research," Parthet said, sidestepping the question neatly. "And now, I really must get at that. I don't know how much time we have before things get too bad to stop."