by Chogan Swan
… meet your doom... worse than any punishment I could give you.
He cringed. A storm came for him, a wave, he felt a sense of a rushing power claim him, wrench at him, and he learned—at last—of despair.
~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~
Seth heard the shout close ahead of him. There were two people in the passage next to a pillar. One crouched by the wall, and one climbed to its feet. He felt a sudden presence, malignant and evil, wrapping shadow around the standing figure—Nimshi. The weaponsmaster gave a hoarse, despairing cry that changed to a dark, wordless yell of triumph and hatred. A red flame lit the chamber. Seth—still running at top speed—struck out with Gidrun, lunging forward before the baal could react. The gory fire went out.
“Be gone. In the name of the Most High Leave and touch no one here,” Seth said.
“Who commands, that I should obey?” said a cold voice from Nimshi's breathless corpse.
“A bondsman to the Holy One who gives me the power. Look and see.”
The presence rolled back then rushed away like a tornado in the night—thwarted.
Keri gasped and sagged against the wall.
“Are you all right?” asked Seth. He reached down and took her hand.
Keri stood, shaking. She pulled herself close to him and held tight for a second. “I will be,” she said, taking a deep breath.
Seth picked her up and walked down the hall as gruesome red flame consumed the weaponsmaster’s body.
~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~
Arturo was having a difficult time staying on his mount. One of the yellow-robed temple guards had pricked the grey with a scimitar and the big horse had refused to heed Arturo's directions since then. Instead, it chased, bit, kicked and trampled every moving yellow-robed figure it could get to . Arturo had given up everything else but staying on top of the enraged beast. He'd had no chance to direct the fighting, and he hadn't seen much either. As far as he could tell, his only contribution had been to bat aside a few slashing blades that had threatened him and his mount. He realized it was over when he found himself in pursuit of a group of battered, bleeding yellow robes who’d thrown down their weapons to flee through the gate.
“Enough!” shouted Arturo. He dropped his sword and thumped the grey on the head with his fist then pulled with both hands on the reins. The grey skittered to a reluctant halt, snapping his teeth and shaking his head. Arturo wrenched the grey's head around, turning him. The courtyard was in shambles. Several of his guards were injured, but none were dead.
The yellow robes were not so lucky. They lay scattered about the yard; many of them trampled. If any lived, they were not showing it. “Check them all, save any still alive for questions,” called Arturo. “And find something to break down that door.” Arturo kicked his horse up to the door where he had seen Fitzroy.
The Perthian was testing the lock: banging into the door with his brawny shoulder.
“I think it's barred with steel, baron,” said Fitzroy. Arturo yelled over his shoulder. “Have you found anything to batter this door yet?”
“Just this, my lord prince,” said an abashed voice. Arturo turned. Four knights were struggling to drag over a stone fertility idol.
Arturo sighed. “Go ahead then,” he said. He already felt ridiculous; knocking down a temple door with a stone phallus couldn't add that much more injury to his dignity.
There was a soft clicking sound and a tiny peephole opened at eye level. Seth's muffled voice came through the opening, “Let us out, Arturo, and get rid of that thing; Keri's with me.”
“Of course,” said Arturo in an injured voice, “just trying to be of assistance.”
He turned to Fitzroy, “Hide that monstrosity!” he ordered. The idol did considerable damage to the steps as it rolled down, but it broke apart at the bottom and his knights concealed it with the rubbish from the courtyard. A moment later, Seth opened the door and stepped through. Keri followed, blinking and shielding her eyes. She had a bloody nose and didn’t seem too steady on her feet.
“Did he get away,” asked Arturo.
Seth shook his head, “No, we caught him. He tried to double back and Keri knocked him down and gave me time to get to him.”
Keri laughed once brief sound, but stopped with a wince, “Well that's as pretty a slant on my part as I could hope for, I guess,” she said.
“He's dead then?”
“Oh yes,” Seth said. “Send a few men with torches down the right-hand passage. The body is burned, but his sword is still there.”
He motioned Arturo to his side. “How soon can you get your troops organized to march? We may be late already.”
“We may be late,” agreed Arturo, “but I sent a message that mustered the troops in Perth last night. They left this morning at dawn. That was the message I received coming out of the council. We will need to ride hard to catch them by tomorrow night. So we are not as late as you might think.”
The edge of Seth's mouth quirked, “You have been busy.”
Arturo shook his head. “Perth is always ready to ride on two hours’ notice. They were that way long before I became the baron, all it took was the marching orders.”
Chapter 4 (Pieces on the Board)
The fire popped and shot a small rocket of sparks into the air. Steam rose from the pot on the coals. Kane removed the lid and ladled out four portions into bowls.
The other men sat on nearby stones and ate in silence: king, wiseman, bladesman, bard.
“I sensed power working to the north this morning,” Jyrmak said. “At first it seemed it was Seth, and I feared for him, but when I looked again, I sensed a dragon instead.”
Kane sucked in his breath.
A dragon? Alaina would be curious about this.
They looked at Jyrmak eyes wide; the firelight flickered on their faces. “Was it one you knew?” asked Arod.
“No, and that is the strangest thing, because it was no young dragon, but one ancient of days and rich in power. How such a one could be in this world without my knowing it....”
“What else did you sense?” said Kane. “What power did it work?”
Jyrmak shook his head. “That is unclear, but it prompted me to seek guidance. We must ride for Brandek Pass.”
Marshall shifted; his eyes narrowed with concern. “But our scouts tell us a host lies in wait for us in the forest. Shouldn't we wait for Duke Edvard's men to get here with reinforcements?”
Arod rose to his feet, “If the Creator prompts me, I will act on it if I understand or not. Besides, they can look for us in the woods whether we are here or not.”
Marshall grinned. “We leave now then?”
Arod looked to Jyrmak.
“Yes,” Jyrmak said, “Only those who can fight, the rest will continue on to Raydcliffe. It will be two days of pushing the horses hard, but our enemies wont block our way.”
~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~
There was an argument that evening among the officers of the Tyr-Goth forest fighters. None of them remembered how it started, but it had seemed so momentous at the time that no one stopped arguing to set or inspect the watch. At midnight, they still argued. They scarce noticed the drumming hooves as Arod's thousand passed their camp on the road to the pass.
When they put together what had happened, more time was lost with recriminations. It was past dawn before their birds showed where the host had gone and they began a confused pursuit.
~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~
The Tardek shifted on the cushions of his couch. It was difficult for him to find a comfortable position. Rich tapestries covered the crumbling stonewalls of his audience chamber. And, a trio of slaves rolled out a new layer of rugs over older ones—covering stains and spots that had accumulated from spilled food, drink and other revelries.
With a loud groan, the door to the chamber opened, and three figures entered.
“The ambassador from Tyr-Goth.”
The Tardek squinted to see better, it seemed the ambassador was announcin
g himself today.
“Welcome, ambassador...” The Tardek was not good with names, but then; he was the Tardek; he did not need to be. He puffed out his cheeks in a sigh, “Bring wine, bring wine,” he called to his slaves.
“Who are your companions today, ambassador?” the Tardek shifted his bulk somewhat to see better. “Do they bring the reward for my co-operation?”
“Indeed they have,” said the ambassador with his smoky voice. “The gold is even now in your counting house.”
“And the other...? The talisman of power?”
“With me,” replied the ambassador.
“Let me see it,” demanded the Tardek eagerly.
“Ah, not yet, not yet.” said the ambassador with a voice like oil. “You have not gone through the ritual. As I said before, it is not for the eyes of the uninitiated.”
“Oh, yes. Of course I remember,” snapped the Tardek. “Well, when can we get that settled?”
“Why, right now if you wish,” purred the ambassador.
“What do you need for this ritual, a slave to sacrifice? You Northrons are fond of blood sacrifice, I understand.”
“No, not this time,” said the ambassador with a smile. “In your case it will not be necessary. You are almost an initiate already.”
The Tardek squinted at the ambassador to see if he was being mocked. He decided not and hefted his bulk upright on the couch.
“I do know something of power,” he replied. His gaze fell again on the ambassador's two companions. “What about them? Who are they?”
“I'm sorry,” said the ambassador, “I thought you had perhaps recognized them. They are principalities with widespread holdings in your domain.”
“They do seem familiar...” the Tardek squinted.
“This is Lord Avarice, and this is Lord Fear.”
“Peculiar names.”
“Not where they come from,” said the ambassador with a tone of mild diplomatic admonishment.
“No offense intended,” said the Tardek.
Fear and Avarice bowed in reply—though the gestures were stiff and shallow.
“Now, as to the ritual...” said the ambassador. “Just repeat what I say.”
“Go ahead then.”
“I renounce the Creator.”
The Tardek squinted, “I renounce the Creator? What does that mean?”
The ambassador hissed in irritation, “It is very important to follow this ritual with care. You must pay attention, and make no mistakes or ask questions until it is over, if you wish to acquire the talisman of power.”
“Yes, I do want the power.”
“Then repeat what I say... I renounce the Creator.”
“I renounce the Creator...” said the Tardek.
~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~
Seth looked up the long column that snaked along the forest road from Ibuchan to Brandek Pass. Fitzroy was cantering back from the front of the column. The knight pulled his mount to the side of the road where Arturo waited for him. Seth and Keri pulled their mounts out of the column and trotted to where the two were talking.
“Another scout?” asked Seth.
Arturo nodded. “Yes, this one headed for the pass too.” he answered.
Fitzroy wiped sweat from his eyes with a coarse linen handkerchief. “His mount was fresh and fast,” said the knight. “We followed your instructions and did not pursue.”
A horn winded ahead of them. Another rider approached, riding hard from the van. His horse was lathered, its belly coated with mud. Arturo spurred ahead to meet him.
“This will be it,” Keri said, voice strained with tension. “We waited too long”
“Maybe.” Seth said.
They trotted after Arturo. When they came to the knoll where Arturo spoke with the rider, the scout was tending his horse, walking him in circles. Arturo had dismounted and looked away to the west. The wind whipped his cloak and his hair. Arturo pointed to the mountains. “The pass is held against us.” His voice caught; his eyes were watering. “Have we any hope of success now?”
Seth looked. High on the slopes, at the head of the pass, tents and banners clustered. “It may be a small force sent ahead to hold the pass,” he said. “That is what I would do.”
Arturo looked hopeful. “Should we try to draw them out?”
Seth frowned, “I wish Fletch were back. Let me think as we ride.” He nudged his horse back to a trot and moved up the column.
Keri kicked her horse after him. “Hoy!” she shouted coming alongside. “Listen, Seth, y' know we can't take that pass without losing half the men here even if it was only a few squads up there. We already tallied that one up, and you agreed with me.”
Seth glanced over at her and smiled though his thoughts were troubled. It was almost mid-day, clear and windy. Keri's red-gold hair had unraveled from its braid and it flew behind her in the wind. Her face was wind-burned and her eyes bright. He could sense she was concerned, but not over-afraid. She was beautiful, he thought, great-souled and brave.
“Did y' hear me?”
“Yes, but we have to go see what we can find out.”
When Seth, Keri and Arturo reached the foot of the mountain, the knights of Perth were waiting in loose formation within the cover of the woods. Arturo called for a report. The captain of the vanguard, a tall whip-thin cotsholder named Darthe, wheeled out of formation and galloped over.
“Someone's coming down the mountain with a parley flag, baron,” he said.
“Go find out what they have to say,” said Arturo.
“Go with him Keri,” Seth said. “I want your thoughts on what they say.”
The captain wheeled again, his expression unchanged, but he gave Keri a long, measuring glance as they trotted out from the trees.
“Why did you send her?” queried Arturo.
“She has good instincts,” Seth replied. “And she's the best natural tactician I've ever met.”
“What? A better tactician than Marshall?”
“I said natural tactician; Marshall is a trained tactician. It's just the way she thinks—all the time.” He grinned. “I trust her to assess the situation, and I can't show my face without endangering all of us. Which reminds me... Fitzroy, do we have any helms with a face shield?”
“Several, lord prince.” replied Fitzroy. “Shall I get one for you?”
“And one for the baron,” replied Seth.
Fitzroy glanced at Arturo.
Arturo shrugged in puzzlement, but nodded.
“Fitzroy,” he said as the knight turned to go.
“Yes Baron?”
“Tell the men to tend their mounts. We'll be here a few minutes.”
“Yes Baron.”
Seth and Arturo got off their horses and walked them, throwing wool blankets over their backs. The wind was brisk even in the bright sun.
Seth kept his eyes on the parley on the slopes.
After a time, Keri and Darthe wheeled around and trotted back.
Fitzroy stumped back up the line with two helms dangling from his wrist. He delivered them and took the horses from Keri and Darthe.
Arturo motioned them over, “Report Captain Darthe?”
“Well, Baron,” said the cotsholder, “They didn't say much; just, we couldn't use the pass right now, which I thought an odd way of stating things. And, they wanted to have a face-to-face—their General Kilan and you all. They said he'd be coming down the hill shortly.”
“They may be trying to buy time to get the rest of their forces up to support them,” suggested Arturo.
“Keri?” queried Seth.
“I don't think the one we talked to knew of any sneaky goings on, but that doesn't mean they aren't. He seemed an honest man though, and that I was not expecting from Tyr-Goth,” she said shaking her head.
“What do you make of it, Seth?” asked Arturo.
“I think we should go see this general, but we need to get ready to take the pass too.”
~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~
; Seth and Arturo waited on a knoll on the grassy slope for the parley. They stayed on their mounts for a better view. Keri, Fitzroy and Darthe were stationed further up the slope—the customary hundred paces from where the approaching delegation would wait. The sun advanced into afternoon; the day warmed.
“Here they come,” said Arturo.
Five mounted warriors in full armor with face shields were picking their way down the slope. When they reached the same level, they stopped; two dismounted and walked forward fifty paces. One wore the insignia of a general on his shoulder.
Seth and Arturo stepped down from their mounts then he and Arturo took twenty paces up slope.
“Would you have us shouting to each other?” called one of the figures.
“You have the high ground,” Seth called back. “You walk downslope to your right, we will walk up to our right and meet you in the middle.”
“Agreed,” came the reply. In a moment they faced each other on even terms.
“Who are you?” asked Seth. “And why is the pass blocked?”
“Since I have the high ground, I could insist on your name first,” replied the general. “But I will be courteous and answer your last question then you may answer mine if you will. The pass is blocked because a great army of the North is advancing toward it to overthrow the East.”
“That is but half an answer,” returned Seth. “Are you not part of this invasion? A vanguard sent to hold the pass?”
“We were once. We are a group of auxiliaries recruited along the way. Tyr-Goth intended to use us to hammer the East and bear the casualties then wipe us out. Having discovered this plan, we were loath to put it into action.”
“It could be a trick,” whispered Arturo. “They would suck us in and destroy us.”
“I have answered,” called the general. “Now, who are you?”