Sightblinder's Story
Page 23
In a moment the griffin had landed on the rooftop. But no sooner had its master leaped from its back, than it flew away again, to circle the tower at a little distance, ignoring his commands to attack the man who stood armed across the diameter of the roof from him. The creature was as confused as any of the humans by the powers of the Sword of Stealth—the beast did not know which of the two images of Wood it saw on the rooftop was the one it ought to obey. And as one of the two Woods it saw was ordering it to attack the other, it held back in confusion.
Meanwhile, the troops of Honan-Fu were adding to the griffin’s difficulties by firing arrows and slinging rocks at it from below.
* * *
When Wood leaped off his griffin to the roof, Arnfinn saw facing him the hideous image of a reptilian warrior. The youth recognized the Sword of Force in the hand of this enemy, and heard the deadly thudding he had heard before through the high windows of Ninazu’s bedchamber.
Ninazu, who had never seen Wood in his reptilian guise before, looked on this terrible arrival with profound loathing, and a fear that made her shrink closer to Arnfinn.
The half-human warrior ignored her. He looked Arnfinn over as if he could see him perfectly well, with growing, amazed contempt. Then the enemy strode toward him with easy confidence, raising Shieldbreaker casually, as if to strike against some unresisting target.
Arnfinn, with Sightblinder in hand, looked into the inward nature of this enemy, as he had scanned the two thieves on the road so many days ago, and had scrutinized the Prince, and Ninazu herself, a short time past. What he saw now revolted him.
Arnfinn dropped his own weapon as the Prince had told him. Now Sightblinder lay inert upon the stone paving of the roof, and its imitation of the other Sword immediately ceased.
Lady Ninazu had drawn her breath in sharply when Arnfinn cast Sightblinder down. But when Arnfinn turned to her in an agony of concern, he saw to his amazement that she was gazing at him as lovingly as ever, and nodding her approval. In a flash he understood. It was as if she were saying yet again: “A clever trick, my lord. This time you have made this hideous enemy see you as only a gawking peasant. I am sure it is all part of your invincible plan.”
* * *
But now Wood, finding that he faced an unarmed opponent, retreated a step or two and cast down Shieldbreaker. He dropped the weapon close behind him on the rooftop, safe for the moment from any hands but his. He had heard too many warnings, and he knew better than to try to fight any unarmed man, even this woeful-looking peasant, with the Sword of Force in hand. The Sword would never harm an empty-handed foe, and, by drawing virtually all of Wood’s physical strength into itself, would leave him helpless.
As soon as Wood threw down Shieldbreaker, Arnfinn grabbed up the Sword of Stealth again.
Now it was Wood, caught Swordless and unprotected, who for the first time experienced the full effects of Sightblinder’s power. He saw the other man, who moved toward him, first as a roiling cloud of thicker demon-smoke than any Akbar or his surviving cohort were likely to produce. From this sight the wizard recoiled, sure for the moment that he once again confronted his ancient foe, the ultimate arch-demon Orcus. Wood stumbled back, and farther back, around the sharp curve made by the encircling parapet. Even as he shrank involuntarily from that image, it altered, the cloud turning pale and becoming laced with inner lightning. And now it seemed to Wood that he was confronted by an avatar of Ardneh himself.
And yet again the advancing image altered. It was that of a mere man now, deceptively ordinary in appearance, who walked on two legs and smiled at Wood and seemed about to give him orders, as he had commanded him of old, orders that the great wizard would be incapable of refusing. It was the image of John Ominor, an emperor of evil memory even to such as Wood.
“I tell you,” the image of John Ominor commanded him, “to leave us alone.”
Almost, Wood obeyed. Almost. But the sheer ferocity of his inner purpose saved him, kept him from yielding to that command through mindless terror. He stumbled backward.
Then he turned aside to regain Shieldbreaker, which was still lying where he had cast it down. The peasant, seeing this, disarmed himself by hurling Sightblinder at him from behind; the bright steel missed Wood, bounced on the hard roof before him, and skittered away to lie available for the taking. With a lunge Wood darted forward and grabbed up the Sword of Stealth. Magic aside, this one would be a tool with which even awkward hands could kill an unarmed man.
Ninazu, in the background, was calling out encouragement of some kind to her hero—but neither man was really aware of what the lady was now saying.
Then suddenly she had their attention. Now that Wood had Sightblinder in hand, she saw him as her brother Kunderu, and screamed, a scream that distracted both men for a moment.
* * *
Arnfinn now saw two Ninazu’s. One of them was standing in place and screaming, while the other smiled at him encouragingly as she approached, holding out her arms as if she wanted to give him comfort. Her small white hands were empty. Both Ninazu’s had the same smudges on face and gown, and the dress of each was torn in precisely the same way. The Sword of Stealth, meanwhile, had completely disappeared, as had Arnfinn’s opponent.
The youth realized barely in time what this combination of appearances implied. Ninazu with her soft arms outstretched had almost reached him. He threw himself aside barely in time to dodge the invisible blow of Sightblinder, a blow that lodged the blade firmly in one of the wooden supports of the lookout’s shelter.
And then Arnfinn’s eye alighted on a Sword, another Sword, that was lying naked on the paving just across the roof’s diameter. Running across the roof to grab up Shieldbreaker, Arnfinn looked back over his shoulder and saw his own father standing with his back to Arnfinn, wrenching at something connected with the shelter post, some object that was concealed behind him as he strove with all his might to tear it free—
Arnfinn grabbed up Shieldbreaker, and felt the gently thudding, remorseless power of it flow into his right hand. Now he could see with perfect clarity that it was his reptilian enemy who was struggling to pull loose a Sword, and who now turned to face Arnfinn with Sightblinder in hand.
Wood saw what Arnfinn had picked up, and hastily threw Sightblinder down, disarming himself again almost as soon as he had managed to get the weapon free.
And Arnfinn promptly cast down Shieldbreaker. He felt sure now that was the proper move to make, because he had seen his crafty enemy do it when their positions were reversed.
“I will help you, my love!” cried out Lady Ninazu suddenly, in a strong voice. And, before anyone could move to reach Shieldbreaker again, she had darted near the enemy and grabbed up Sightblinder.
There was an outburst of sound from somewhere below the tower, men’s voices cheering, followed by calls for the Ancient One himself to surrender.
But no one on the roof heard that. For the moment it seemed that none of the three people there were capable of moving. Arnfinn was frozen, looking at an image of his own father, who stared back at him in utter horror. Then he saw Ninazu as Wood in duplicate. And then Arnfinn saw her briefly as herself, and he could not understand why that should be, while she still held the Sword.
Her gaze swung round to Wood, who was now hesitating as to whether he dared try to make a rush for Shieldbreaker or not. The griffin, crying fiercely, was circling the tower swiftly, coming closer now in rapid orbit.
“You,” the multiple, flickering image that was Ninazu said to the wizard. “Gods and demons, I see you clearly now. Clearly at last. How could I ever have—you make me want to puke!”
And then her gaze turned back to Arnfinn. Aided by Sightblinder’s second and more subtle power, she was seeing him now, for the first time, for what he really was.
The changing image that was Ninazu shook its head. “Ahhh,” was the sound that came from her throat, in a voice that was made up of many voices, and even if there were no words the tones of that sound spoke with grea
t eloquence of utter denial and refusal.
She backed up farther, away from Arnfinn even as he took a step toward her, and farther still, even if it meant climbing up on the parapet behind her.
The Sword slipped from her grasp, and for a moment he saw her clearly. Her long dress tangled her feet and she started to go over.
Arnfinn was halfway across the roof toward the spot where she had disappeared when the claws of the griffin struck him down.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The sun had moved well past noon before the last mopping-up operations had been concluded in the castle. But organized resistance had effectively collapsed much earlier when Wood was seen making good his own escape aboard his griffin, with Shieldbreaker in his hand. Besides the Ancient One himself, probably none of the intruders in red and gray had been able to get away.
Dead and wounded lay everywhere, indoors and outdoors, but none of the other fallen were near Arnfinn where he lay dead on the tower roof. Or near Ninazu, who now, still breathing, lay on a setback only a few stories down.
The victorious Honan-Fu had reached his daughter’s side as soon as he was able to do so. Those who had been first to reach her had noted the twisted position in which her body lay, and no attempt had been made to move her.
Honan-Fu was squatting beside her broken body. Sadly, tenderly, fearfully, his hand was stroking his daughter’s hair. He had already sent orders to his best physician to come at once and attend Ninazu. But that man was undoubtedly very busy elsewhere, and even if he heard the order and obeyed, it seemed unlikely that human medical care of any kind could make a difference.
The wizard had already helped her as best he could with his own magic. It appeared that in this, as in so much, his magic was not going to be enough.
As time passed, a few other people gathered around the father and daughter, to watch and listen. Ninazu’s breathing was harsh and irregular, and her eyes were closed.
“If only,” someone inevitably said, “we had Woundhealer here…” But of course the Sword of Mercy was nowhere near.
“If only the lord Draffut—” said someone else. And that line of wishing had to be allowed to die also. Draffut had not been seen or heard of since he had fled out into the lake at the height of the battle.
Ninazu’s eyes remained closed, even when her father spoke to her. Her body had been covered with a blanket now, up to the chin, but the ominous lines and angles of her broken limbs and body showed through the covering.
Suddenly her father, in an awkward movement, sat back on the roof. He looked a totally exhausted old man, as if his physical energy and his magic had given out at the same time.
“Now my daughter is dying,” he announced in a harsh voice. “And I am childless.”
No one responded at first. Then Lady Yambu asked quietly: “What about Kunderu?”
Honan-Fu looked over at her as if he did not understand what she was talking about. Then comprehension seemed to dawn on him. He said: “Of course, you were with Ninazu, and listening to her. I suppose she talked about her brother Kunderu; she always did. But Kunderu died two years ago. It was at the same time that she—became ill.”
Yambu appeared to understand now. But Zoltan did not. “Became ill?” the young man repeated.
“For the past two years,” said the old man sitting on the roof, “her mind has been deranged.”
Prince Mark was nearby, resting on one knee. He had carefully moved Sightblinder to a place just in front of him, where he could keep an eye on it. Now the Prince asked Honan-Fu: “She knew that her brother was dead?”
“She knew it, but she could never accept the fact. And at the same time she blamed me. It was more than I could bear, to hear her speak of him as if he were still alive—worse, as if I were holding Kunderu prisoner and punishing him. My son and I had our disagreements, even quarrels, but I never did that. I never could have done that….
“And so, I had the manor on the mainland refurbished as her house. At first she seemed content to live there, or so it was reported to me, though she was always expecting Kunderu to come back to her.
“But it was someone else who came to her instead. The man who had been the real cause of her brother’s death—though Ninazu would never believe that. The man who became—no, I cannot call him her lover. He was never that. He used her, that was all. Trying to get at me, to overthrow me. And I was too busy with the academy, and other matters, to discover what was going on. Always, even after Kunderu was dead, I was too busy…”
And now at last the eyes of the young woman opened. She did not try to speak, and perhaps she could not move. When she saw whose hand it was that stroked her hair, she turned her gaze away, as if she were looking for someone else.
* * *
When Ninazu had finally drawn her last breath, and enough time had passed for all of the survivors to rest as well as they were able, Honan-Fu publicly renewed his offer to take on Mark’s son Adrian as an apprentice, when the academy was reopened. The student would of course be charged no fee, in gratitude for the help Prince Mark and his people had given Honan-Fu, and the sufferings they had undergone.
Mark had been expecting some such offer, and had had time in which to prepare a diplomatic answer. The truth was that he had already decided, in his own mind, against ever sending his child into the atmosphere of this place.
A few hours later Lady Yambu, thoughtfully walking in her pilgrim’s garb upon the docks at Triplicane, was pondering silently upon the fact that she had been unable to catch even a brief glimpse of the Emperor during his short stay in this locality. She wondered that she felt such real disappointment as she did at the implication that her former lover did not want to see her again.
She was beginning to wonder whether the great downriver journey she had been contemplating had ever really been more than a search for him.
Prince Mark sought out Lady Yambu on the docks and expressed his thanks for her help more fully than he had yet done. Then he asked her: “And do you think, my lady, that you have found here any portion of the truth you sought?”
She considered carefully. “Perhaps I have been able to recognize a bit or two of it. But in any case I plan to go on, down the Tungri.”
Mark nodded, unsurprised. “I have heard that the Show of Ensor was seen two days ago, loading itself aboard a couple of barges, to go down the river too. The man in the clown’s mask was still reportedly in charge.”
“Indeed. And have the flying scouts brought any word of Amintor?”
“No word as yet.”
Now Zoltan came to join his uncle and the lady on the docks. The young man said that Ben had told him about the mergirl in the Show of Ensor; and he, Zoltan, now asked permission of his Prince to accompany Lady Yambu upon her downstream pilgrimage, in the capacity of bodyguard, or any other way in which she would be pleased to have him. The lady herself, it appeared, had already indicated that he would be welcome.
After thinking the matter over briefly the Prince granted his permission. He said he hoped that Zoltan would return to Tasavalta within a year or two, and would bring with him some useful intelligence about what was going on in the southern regions of the continent. Draffut, before his abrupt departure, had dropped some disquieting hints about developments in that direction. As for Mark himself, though he felt now almost entirely restored to health, he was more than ready to hurry home for a rest in the company of his Princess and his children. He was going to take Sightblinder with him, and he was going to see that suitable compensation for it should be sent to the village of Lunghai.
* * *
Ben of Purkinje meanwhile was preparing to return to his own wife and child, in the Tasavaltan capital of Sarykam. But in the course of his preparations Ben paused, more than once, to think over what the Emperor had said to him about Ariane.
About The Author
Fred Saberhagen is widely published in many areas of speculative fiction. He is best known for his Berserker, Swords, and Dracula series. Less
known are the myth based fantasies: Books of the Gods. Fred also authored a number of non-series fantasy and science fiction novels and a great number of short stories. For more information on Fred visit his website: www.fredsaberhagen.com
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
The Ardneh Sequence
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
About The Author