K B Forrest - [Fire Chronicles 04]

by Banner of Fire [eXtasy MM] (epub)

  “Oh, my mistake, carry on then, Daughter. Firestarter, what luck that you have returned.”

  Atar smiled and acknowledged the man’s greeting. “Thank you all for keeping things in good order. I see that much progress has been made,” he said as the leaders sat down. Atar was secretly delighted to find himself seated next to Sophene. His smile died as soon as it had formed.

  Bulliwuf, you never fail to make an ass of yourself, Atar muttered to the wolf, who sprawled with his head on the Princess’ lap.

  The two generals began to report. Atar’s eyes strayed to Sophene with new appreciation. It was something of a shock to realize how much work she had done. He wouldn’t have been able to think of some of the things that she had organized, even if he had been around. It wasn’t actually all that surprising, when he reflected. She was trained for this sort of thing, after all.

  What a pity the people didn’t decide to elect her as their leader.

  “That’s it! I demand that something be done about this… this…woman!” Sugreeva screeched, cutting into General Monases’ report, which was nearly completed anyway. His clothes and hair were wildly disheveled.

  “Yah! You want marry?” Beerta inquired in broken Persian.

  “Eek! Help me!” Sugreeva said. “That beastly woman is learning our noble language.”

  The generous platters of food set before Atar and the leaders caused the Firestarter to knit his brows for an instant.

  Sophene, ever sharp, murmured, “Do not object. They would rather have less later on than to miss this opportunity to celebrate. It is essential to make a show of enjoying yourself for their morale.”

  Looking at the swirling activity all around him, Atar was filled with an indescribable sensation. It was very much akin to power. It was the realization that the people actually were a force to be reckoned with. He felt a deep sense of honor to be the leader of such people. The festive air continued well into the night, and Atar, who was tired from his days of travel, rose from his place. There was a cry of protest from the craftsmen and soldiers crowded around the fires, but Atar did not need to fake his exhaustion. He had met far too many people to remember and had eaten far more than he should have.

  With one last smile and a wave, Atar headed for the outskirts of camp.

  “Eek! Woman I will not tolerate this!” Sugreeva said from somewhere close by. Atar looked around, but the Prince was nowhere in sight. He must be in one of the tents, Atar realized.

  “See here now,” the shrill voice said again. “Oh-oh dear! My how exuberant. Oh…dear!” Sugreeva said. His last ‘oh dear’ had a decidedly different tone to it.

  Atar suppressed a roar of laughter and continued on his way, careful not to make any noise to disturbed the odd couple.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The drip, drip, drip of water cut through the air. Each drip reverberated in his head. Zohak opened his eyes slowly. At least the clanging hadn’t started. His limbs were heavy. He tried to speak, but only a low moan escaped his lips. He thrashed his head and moaned louder. He saw the figure in the doorway. It was dark, but rays of light made a fiery backdrop. He moaned again and tried in vain to move. The figure casually set a huge mace down and pulled a wicked-looking knife out of its sheath. Zohak recognized it as the knife belonging to his foster father, Melik of the Stout Ribs. He had given it to Zohak just before he was murdered.

  The man’s face was visible now. It was Atar the Idiot, his half-brother, and the real heir to the throne. Zohak wanted to plead with him. Atar’s face was impassive. All of its anger was gone. He pulled off the covers to reveal Zohak’s naked body and then, as if working with a deer carcass, he began to flay Zohak. Unable to scream, Zohak moaned in torment and terror.

  Instead of the torment ending in death, he was roughly dragged out of his bloody bed and it was then that the clanging began. The dragon snakes were already writhing in agony with their master, but now their frantic movements maddened him.

  Clang, clang, clang!

  Another figure appeared at the door. He was a huge man—yes, it was the blacksmith Kava. He was carrying iron chains. He took these and wrapped them around Zohak’s burning body and they made his flesh sizzle like roasting meat. Zohak was overwhelmed with the horrifying odor of his own burning flesh. The blacksmith eyed Zohak for a moment then reached back to something he’d set on the floor. He put an ox yoke on Zohak’s neck.

  Zohak could see the agony in the man’s mind. He saw the blacksmith’s daughter, the one his dragon snakes had eaten. His skinless body burned at the memory. He could see and feel the agony of every person he’d fed to his snakes. In response, the snakes vomited a vile-smelling substance that tortured him as it spilled over his exposed flesh.

  The men were making him walk. They moved on and on until they reached a mountain that looked horribly black. They led him into a cave deep in the mountain. The blacksmith held a hammer in one hand and a long iron spike in the other. He was unable to move as the man hammered the spikes into his body, pinning him into the rock. Zohak realized that the man was being careful not to harm his vital organs.

  The two men left him in the darkness and suddenly Zohak found his voice.

  Zohak’s screaming brought the guards, his viziers, and even his wife, Jahi the Lovely. “Bring the astrologers and magicians,” he croaked.

  His hair was in disarray and he hadn’t changed his bedclothes. Urine soaked the front and back of his robe, but Zohak didn’t care.

  “So what does this dream mean?”

  “We cannot be certain…”

  “It can mean several things. Perhaps not all bad,” another astrologer said.

  “Guards!” Zohak roared. “Prepare to have these men all flayed alive. They are hiding the truth for fear.”

  An old astrologer, the chief, stood. “I will tell you. The reason we hesitate is that there is no good news. The dream means this: Everyman is born not for his parents, but as a tithe for death. No person—not even the highest king, can escape death. It means too, that your evil deeds have earned you a terrible reward. The man they call the ‘Firestarter’ will come back and he will destroy you. The blacksmith of your dream represents the many people you have killed to satisfy the greed of your snakes. Because of that greed, people have risen against you. You cannot escape your destiny, which is endless suffering as an eternal captive in Mount Damavand. The iron with which they bound you represents good over evil. The blacksmith works with iron. Iron represents forces that work against demons. It means, in short, that you are now not a man, but a demon. For you, death would be a blessing.”

  The astrologer finished his speech and sat down again. Zohak felt the world spin around him and his body slid from the throne to the cold, hard marble of the floor.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Empty the treasury if need be. Send emissaries to the northern lairs of the demon people. They can be persuaded with the promise of gems. I want the best of the demon armies to be assembled immediately. Call upon the best magicians, wizards, and sorcerers. We must fight fire with fire. If that wicked Firestarter plans to use his magic against us, we have no choice but to retaliate.” Zohak wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.

  “Your Highness! The scouts report that the so-called Army of the People is growing. There are even deserters from the army joining their ranks. The villagers are refusing to pay their taxes. We ordered the farmers to give all of their harvest to feed the army, but instead they give it to the rebels.”

  “Kill any peasant who refuses. Meruzanes! Have you any word from the demon armies?” Zohak called over the officer’s head.

  “A group has already arrived. They are assembled in the main courtyard, but they are hungry. They will accept human meat,” Meruzanes said.

  “That will not be a problem.”

  “But sir,” another officered approached. “There are some who are refusing to fight side-by-side with demons.”

  “Feed those to the demons, then” Zohak was fairly foaming as he o
rdered the officers. “I will go to look at the demon battalion.”

  “This way sir.”

  Zohak rubbed his hands together when he saw them. “They seem disorganized.”

  “I beg to differ.” The demon general reared up in front of Zohak. Scales In shades of green covered whatever could be seen of his hands and face. His nose was flattened and extended over much of the mid-portion of his face. Large, dry lips covered teeth that were coated with vile, stinking plaque. His eyes were outstanding. They swelled out of their sockets so that the whites of his eyes were fully visible. This left his irises looking very small. His body was writhing with swollen lumps that moved as if rats crawled about, seeking escape. He smiled at Zohak’s surprise.

  “I am a second generation demon, but my father was first generation. I see the admiration in your eyes. Thank you. Well, then, when do you expect to attack?”

  “Your men’s mounts…” Zohak’s mouth fell open in surprise.“Well, that is, men and women. Our women are just as able soldiers. The mounts, yes. It depends on the skill and magic of the particular demon. As you can see, some use elephants, cranes, snakes, lions, and even large tortoises. Oh yes, a few small dragons too, but only the kind that can be tamed, you follow?”Zohak chose to overlook the rude comment. “We are waiting for reinforcements. We have to crush the rebels decisively.”The demon’s laughter rumbled. “What is so funny?” Zohak asked. Blood rose in his head. “Well, our force alone can crush even your army, what to speak of the ragtag rebel force. I find your fear amusing. Why wait? We will crush the puny Army of the People. Give us your riches and save yourself trouble.” His bottom lip drooped to the left, revealing a rotted canine tooth. “Emperor Zohak!” Another messenger saved him from having to answer to that insult. “A group of sorcerers have arrived.”

  “Bring them into my throne room.”

  Zohak reclined in his throne, trying to look calm. Sweat trickled down his back and the cup of wine in one hand shook so badly that he set it down. The snake dragons hissed and writhed.

  “Your wrap, my Lord. As you requested.” The manservant bent in a bow as he placed the warm robe on Zohak’s lap.

  “Well? Open it and place it around my shoulders,” Zohak snapped.

  “As you wish, my Lord.” The man’s entire body trembled. Suddenly he screeched and fell away, hands clawing his face.

  “It has bitten him, Emperor!” Meruzanes was pale.

  “Get him out of here. I suppose he’ll be dead soon enough, like the other one.”

  The assembled wizards and sorcerers watched the show silently. Zohak finally unfolded the robe, muttering curses and wrapped himself in it.

  “Well, let’s begin. I have much to do and little time. How is it that you people can help me? You have heard the predictions. You have been presented with the dream. Speak or get out of here!” Zohak suddenly grabbed one of the snakes viciously and wrung its neck. It drooped for a moment then resumed its questing through his hair.

  The silent men turned toward a dark form in the middle of them. His face was totally hooded and even his hands were hidden in his black wizard’s robe. One of the other men spoke. “This one will speak with you in your private quarters.”

  Zohak’s face registered his anger and shock. “I will decide that. How dare you?”

  The assembled sorcerers remained silent. Zohak felt an odd chill emanating from the group. He stood suddenly. “Fine. Vizier, show the man to my chambers.” As he passed Meruzanes he whispered, “Post several of my best guards directly outside the door.”

  The temperature in the room seemed to have plummeted despite the fire in the hearth. The air outside was warm, but Zohak’s chambers were even colder than usual. Zohak felt fear prickle up his spine as he eyed the man, who still stood.

  Slowly he drew back the hood. Zohak fell to his knees. “Father! I thought you’d been killed. What happened to your…”

  “Silence! How do you like my little gift?” Dahaka’s neck was still torn where Bulliwuf had mangled him, but the grayish flesh wasn’t bloody. His face was ghastly pale and his eyes were like coals burning in his skull-like face.

  “W-what gift?” Zohak’s hands automatically fluttered toward his shoulders.

  “Those, of course.”

  “But the beautiful goddess…she was the one…” Zohak sputtered as he tried to understand.

  “Ha! That was a trick, of course. You know that I can take the form of a woman quite easily. Remember how I fooled that monstrous brother of yours? Did you really think that a heavenly goddess came and granted you two snake dragons so vile that they require human brains to eat? You are so stupid. But I knew that you would be foolish enough to believe a beautiful goddess, so I took that form.” Dahaka smiled his hideous parody of a grin.

  “Why, Father? Why? This is a curse! I suffer every day because of this.”

  “Why, my whelp? Why? Because you were just about to lose the crown to that Atar imbecile. Without them, you would have never been able to subdue the Dragon of Drought. I saved you from the worst humiliation. Now, listen, for you are again facing difficulties way beyond even the power of my magic.

  “You must leave now. Put that cowardly Meruzanes on the throne until you return. Flee to India. Once there, we shall create an entire country of wizards and sorcerers. It will indeed be a land of sorcery. We shall then assemble an army and march back to reclaim the throne. It is the only way to escape your fate. If you ignore this, you will end up a prisoner for eternity. A mountain of your own excrement will surround you, as day after day you suffer nailed into a mountain cave. Make haste! You will travel with me, and the wizards I have assembled. They are the best in the entire world. All of them practice the blackest of magic.”

  Zohak stood stunned. “And leave? What will the people think? I can’t bear to think that Atar the Idiot will think I ran in fear!”

  “Son, he would be more pleased to get his hands on you. The blacksmith—remember the blacksmith. He has gained much power by his awful loss. He is another dangerous enemy. And worse of all is that the Idiot is now under the protection of the goddess Ardwisura Anahita. She will not allow you to touch him, but soon, you will have the power to destroy him. Now immediately hasten to depart.” Dahaka left the room in a foul puff of air.

  “Meruzanes, I appoint you regent to rule in my absence. I am leaving for some time to raise a powerful army north of here. Do whatever you need to do to hold back the rebels. Make use of the demon armies and the sorcerers and magicians.” Zohak handed him a smaller scepter than the one he used.

  Meruzanes fell to one knee and accepted it with trembling hands. “I will rule as you wish. I am eternally grateful to you for having faith in me, your most humble servant. Be assured that all will remain in safety until your Lordship’s return. May you travel with good fortune! May your quest bear fruit! May even the gods bow at your feet, dear sovereign.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Campfires were lit in the midst of the massive gathering. “Can you believe this?” A soldier asked aloud to no one in particular. “What a sight. Poor farmers eating with the lords! Even the defected army of Persia sitting with the Horde they fought with so recently!”

  Atar smiled in agreement. He reached Prince Sugreeva’s tent. “No! I just…well, really?” Beerta pulled aside the flap and pushed Sugreeva out. His stiff ringlets had been braided with rawhide and clay beads. He wore a leather loincloth and a cloak of soft fur. His dainty shoes had been replaced with the sandals of the barbarians.

  “See Chief Atar? See my husband too much beautiful,” she said in accented Persian.”

  Sugreeva was blushing and awkward. The tribe people gathered to admire and touch him.

  “You look great, Sugreeva, like a true prince that you are,” Atar said with real admiration. He had changed. He seemed harder, having lived such a rough life for these months since he’d left the palace.

  “Yes, I suppose I do.”

  Beerta was beaming. “And my husband, he l
earning to ride Mongolian pony. Very brave man, my Sugreeva. Oh! Oh! Come husband. I so exciting I need to make the sex with you!” She pulled the blushing prince into the tent.

  Princess Sophene was smiling as she watched the couple leave. Ezad the Insane followed her. “Ezad is also making progress. We are working together. I am using my magic to help him and he is using his spy skills to help the army. He reports that Zohak is calling on mercenary troops of actual demons from the North to augment his army, now that so many troops are defecting.”

  General Tiridates added, “We must attack soon. Perhaps even in the morning. Ezad reports that only one demon battalion has arrived. Zohak is opening the royal treasury to supply a huge number of troops. If we strike before they arrive, they will be forced to return—if we win, that is. They know they won’t be paid.”

  Atar mulled it over. He looked at Bulliwuf, who was smiling slightly. He’d been in his human form for a while now. Bulliwuf nodded. “I believe that to be a wise move. We should get some sleep.”

  Atar said, “Tell Kava to announce that we should sleep early, as we will meet to strategize in the morning. There is no sense telling them that we may attack. They will get no sleep if we tell them that.”

  Bulliwuf pulled Atar toward their tent, which was the only one with a large opening in the roof. He was imitating Beerta’s excited voice. “Oh my brave Atar. I so excited I need to make the sex with you.” Atar looked to see a few observers trying to hide their mirth.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Atar rarely dreamed, so what was this? A beautiful woman floated to him. She was dressed in golden armor. She carried a golden spear in one hand and a dazzling golden bow over her shoulder, where a quiver of arrows as bright as the sun blazed. She had stepped off a golden chariot, which was pulled by white horses of the kind Atar had dreamed. She touched Atar on the head and stroked his hair.