The Warrior's Tale (The Far Kingdoms, Book 2)

by Allan Cole, Chris Bunch

  One of the young wizards bobbed his head, still giggling. Then he tried to look mournful, serious. “I fear all you say is true,” he said. “Besides being old, poor Lord Gamelan was quite overwhelmed by all the new magical discoveries that have been made since the good captain’s brother discovered the Far Kingdoms. He still clung to the old ways of doing things. Refused to consider the new theories posed by the late, Lord Janos Greycloak — whom he privately denounced. Harsh as it may sound, reason commands us to conclude that Lord Gamelan was no longer competent.”

  This was absolute nonsense! Gamelan might’ve feared that age was threatening his wits, but I knew from our many long talks about the philosophy of magic those fears had only spurred him to think deeper still. How many times had I heard him expound on Greycloak’s theories and where they all might lead someday? I told them all this; I defended Gamelan to the heavens, but nothing I said would wipe off those damned smiles.

  Then Jinnah leaned forward. “That may all be very well, Captain Antero,” he said. “But in your report you say it was you who cast the spell, not Lord Gamelan. And it was you who found evidence of the threat from the Archon. Isn’t that so?”

  “Yes,” I said. “But it was Gamelan who taught me, guided me.”

  “Ah, so now you claim to be a wizard?” Jinnah said. “Such a great wizard that your magical efforts are to be accepted over the best magical minds in Orissa?” He indicated the two Evocators.

  “I can only tell you what I know,” I said. “I make no claims, except that I speak the truth. Look, here on my palm, where the Archon’s brand still lingers! Please, my lords. You must listen. The Archon must be stopped!”

  “Forgive me, Captain Antero,” Jinnah said. “But I must call these proceedings to a halt. I, of all people, do not wish to see one of Orissa’s greatest heroes humiliate herself. You’ve been through a great deal. I’m sure your weary. Confused. You should rest awhile, Captain. Then, in the fullness of time, after reflecting on what we said here today, if you still have doubts, come see me. My door is always open to you, Captain. Such is my great respect for your accomplishments.”

  Then, as I gaped, refusing to believe my own eyes and ears, the seven men rose as one and walked out of the room. A sentry shut the door behind them and took up post in front of it.

  I raged out of the hall. There were few people about as I stormed down the street to find a quiet place to think. The river is where all Orissans go to seek peace. She’s our comfort when everything else abandons us, so it’s no wonder my boots carried me there. There was little ship traffic and only a solitary fisherman far out in the center tending his nets. I sat on the bank and reviewed all that’d happened. I couldn’t see where I should’ve done anything differently; just as I couldn’t see what I ought to do next. I sat there brooding until a chill came into the air and I looked up and saw night closing in.

  Out on the river, the fisherman rose in his boat and hurled his net. As he did so, I had the most powerful urge to return to the villa. My family would comfort me. I got up, heading for the stable to retrieve my horse. As I neared it, I saw it was the only business open on the street. All the others, including two taverns, were shuttered early against the night.

  I paid the stablemaster and got my horse. As I mounted outside, the stablemaster’s lad barred the door.

  This was all very odd. Taverns rarely close on the main streets, and stables never do. And, now I thought of it, the fisherman I’d noticed was nearly as strange. I’d never seen a net caster ply the waters that time of day. Then thoughts of Amalric’s peaceful villa drew me and I kicked my horse toward home.

  But just as I neared the edge of the city, I suddenly remembered Polillo’s note. She’d said she be at the tavern near the chandlery when the full moon rose; which was tonight. I turned the horse back into the city and all thoughts of the villa vanished.

  Orissa was completely dark by the time I reached the chandlery. The only light, save the bright full moon, was the eerie glow of the Evocators at work in their hilltop palace. I turned the corner and saw the tavern was closed. I was about to dismount and check the message board to see if there was another note from Polillo, when I heard someone shout:

  “Watch out, Ismet!”

  I barely had time to register that it was Polillo’s voice, when I heard the most ghastly roar. I drew my sword and spurred the horse to the mouth of an alley where the sound was coming from.

  As I entered it I saw Polillo and Ismet fighting for their lives. A monstrous demon had them cornered against a blank alley wall. It had a squat, toad-like shape, with massive fur-covered legs and long, thick hairless arms. A demon, here in the heart of Orissa! So much for Jinnah, and his Evocators’ entrail-stirring!

  As I clattered into the alley the demon turned and saw me. It had a fat man’s face, with pouched jaws and lips. It shrieked at me, exposing a yard of filed teeth. My horse reared at the banshee howl and I fell heavily to the ground, barely kicking my feet out of the stirrups in time.

  I scrambled up, still gripping my sword. The demon had turned back on Polillo and Ismet. Before I could move forward, the beast gave a mighty kick with one of those massive legs, forcing Polillo and Ismet to dodge apart.

  The huge foot struck the wall, powdering the rock. Then, as the two women poised for counterattack, sharp talons flicked at Ismet and I saw her roll under them. But it was only a feint, for as she came up the demon’s other arm shot out with amazing speed, slashing across Ismet’s belly.

  I knew it was a death wound as I charged forward. I didn’t have to hear Polillo’s shout of grief and fury. I howled my war cry as I sprinted in for the attack. Before I could plunge my sword into the beast, it leaped high into the air and I nearly crashed into the wall.

  I ran straight up the side and back-flipped over onto my feet. But my guard was open, and the demon roared and sprang toward me, claws scything out.

  From nowhere came Ismet, blood pouring from her mouth, holding her guts together with an arm, but all of her killing power in her long sword as it slashed, then slashed again, cutting deep into the demon’s leg before it could take me.

  The creature screamed . . . and was gone.

  “It’s up there,” Polillo shouted.

  The demon was standing on the roof of the tavern, blood gouting from its leg. Polillo and I braced, expecting him to leap back into the fight. The beast peered at me and I thought I saw a flicker of fear. Then he gave another howl and vanished before our blinking eyes.

  Polillo and I ran to Ismet’s slumped form. She was still alive — barely. She smiled weakly when she saw me.

  “I knew you’d come,” she said. Then she died.

  We knelt by her body for long moments. This strange warrior woman who had been the spirit of the Guard, more than any banner, any statue of the goddess, was gone.

  I knew I would never see her like again. She had been my right arm and, as much as anyone could touch the soul of Ismet, my friend.

  I remembered what I’d felt she became my team-mate long ago, against my orders, when I went up the stairs in that sea castle in Lycanth to slay the Archons. We were a team, and we would die as a team . . . Instead, she’d died for me.

  I’d failed her, although there wasn’t anything I could’ve done. Perhaps I should have insisted she spend her holidays with me. Perhaps . . . perhaps . . . but there wasn’t time for those thoughts.

  “We’d better go,” Polillo said. “He might come back.”

  I doubted it, but said nothing. My horse was long gone, so we slipped out of the alley on foot and made our way back to the river. Polillo led me to a hiding place under the docks.

  She whispered firebeads into life and I looked around with surprise when I saw it’d obviously been used for some time. Among other comforts, there was a small mattress and a jug which Polillo uncorked. She drank deeply and passed it over. I nearly gagged on the raw brandy, but it was fine once it cleared my gullet.

  “You’ve obviously been here for awhi
le,” I said. “Maybe you’d better tell me what’s going on.”

  “I never made it to my mother’s house,” Polillo said. “If you remember, my brother was waiting to fetch me when we arrived.”

  I nodded, vaguely recalling the tall, thin young man who’d thrown his arms around Polillo, and then blushed so charmingly when she’d introduced us during the chaos of the homecoming.

  “Well, I lost him in the crowd when we were leaving,” Polillo continued. “At least that’s what I thought at first. I searched for him for nearly an hour, then realized he was probably waiting for me at the crossroads outside of town. I went to the east gate, but there were soldiers there who refused to let me out. I argued, but they were thick-headed louts and wouldn’t let me pass. It was the same at the other gates.”

  “But I’ve used the west gate several times since we’ve been back,” I said. “And I’ve never encountered any soldiers at all, much less been refused passage.”

  Polillo grunted in surprise. “That may be,” she said. “But the same thing happened to all the other women I’ve managed to talk to. None of them were permitted to leave the city.

  “Where did you stay?” I asked.

  “I spent a few nights in the barracks with Ismet,” she said.

  I flushed as she said this, again regretting that my invitation to Ismet hadn’t been more persuasive.

  Polillo sensed my thinking. “Ismet wasn’t the only one to die,” she said. “Demons have killed three others that I know of.” My guts churned. What a wonderful homecoming this was proving to be.

  “It wasn’t so bad during the day,” Polillo said. “You could get a drink at a tavern. A bite to eat at a food stall. But at night everything shuts down and that’s when the demons came after us. None of us knew what was happening at first. I found out by accident when I saw the messages posted outside the tavern.”

  “I saw your message,” I said.

  “I was hoping you would,” Polillo replied. “I’d been turned back every time I tried to go to your villa and see you. But I figured you’d come back to town some time, and hoped you’d get through where I couldn’t. I prayed like a crazed priest you’d look us up in the old haunts and see the message.” She managed a small smile. “I never knew you not to stand a round when asked, so I thought I had a pretty good chance you’d show up if you saw it.”

  “Where are the others?” I asked.

  Polillo shrugged. “Hiding all over the city. It’ll take a while to round them up, but it could be done.”

  She went on to say she and Ismet were attacked a few nights after they’d holed up in the barracks. They’d escaped the demon and gradually learned others were being stalked. They decided to stick together and keep in contact with as many of the Guardswomen as they could. They’d been dodging death ever since, waiting for the night when I might appear.

  “But I guess that damned demon figured it out,” Polillo said. “He was lurking when we got there. Trapped us in the alley.”

  “That’s another strange thing,” I said. ”Since when did that alley dead end? Didn’t it used to lead to the Avenue of the Bakers?”

  “Of course it did,” Polillo said. “Drove me mad for a time. But that was nothing. I’ve wandered all over city since we got back. There’s whole buildings gone. Streets that run straight up to houses and stop. I even tried to look into windows at night, and I swear sometimes I’ve thought every soul in Orissa sneaks out of the city just to mock us. I mean, you don’t hear couples quarreling, kids pissing about going to bed too early, or even any old grandfather snoring the roof off when it gets real late.”

  She took another pull on the jug. “Now, I’ll ask you the same thing you asked me, Captain,” she said. “What in the name of any god you’d choose to curse, is going on?”

  “Whatever it is,” I said with a snort, “according to our all wise superiors, it is definitely not the Archon.”

  Polillo gaped. By the time I’d filled her in on my hearing before the Magistrates and Evocators, her jaw was practically dragging through the muck.

  “It doesn’t take a Janos Greycloak,” I said, “to put the sums together and come up with a simple answer. Who else but the Archon could plague us with demons? Who else but the Archon would want to see all the survivors of the expedition dead? I don’t know about the other oddities, but whatever is the reason, the Archon must be behind it.”

  “Then why didn’t our Evocators sniff him out?” Polillo asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But the only thing that seems awake and alight every night is the Palace of the Evocators. So, I propose we take a little moonlit stroll, my fair Polillo. And if chance takes us pass the palace, why who can say what should happen next?”

  Polillo gave me a nasty grin. “Wait a minute, Captain,” she said. “Let me get my ax.”

  She pulled it from under the mattress. It glittered deadly in the light of the firebeads. She gave it a rueful look.

  “I thought I was done with her for awhile,” she said. “Some welcome for a soldier home from the wars.

  “All hail the heroes! Bah!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  THE CASTLE OF IRON

  I’m not sure what I expected to find at the Palace of the Evocators that night. As we approached my nerves were snapping like tightly-strung lyre strings. The Palace bulked over us, light glaring through the windows; but it was absent of any other sign of life, save the low, machine-like throbbing of the ground we walked on.

  There was little cover on that hill and as we leaped over naked ground from rock cluster to tree I began to regret our coming. I’d cast a spell to dull the scent of our auras in case any hunting demons were lurking about, but there was nothing I could do about the bright moonlight menacing overhead.

  Even when we finally crept into the Palace’s dense shadow, I felt no relief. The air stank of sulfurous magic and my hackles were stiff, hot pins in my flesh. I wasn’t comforted when I saw the big main gate, although closed, was not guarded.

  I grew more nervous as we crouched behind a thick clump of rosemary and I probed ahead with my senses for a magical net and found nothing. Our Evocators have always been a secretive and wary lot and I think if I’d have brushed against the expected alarms, I would’ve turned back right then. Their very absence, however, heightened my suspicion. Even then, I hesitated.

  Polillo leaned close to whisper: “What’ll they do if they catch us?”

  Not long ago — before Amalric tamed them — the Evocators would’ve put us to death — most horribly. They’d once falsely accused my brother, Halab, of heresy and slew him; so the Anteros have more reason than most to be wary. But the new breed of Evocators who reign must abide by the same laws as the rest of us.

  What could they do to the hero of Lycanth, the killer of Archons, besides publicly humiliate her? At least that’s what I wanted to think. So my answer to Polillo was a shrug — who knows? Still, the dutiful reasoning of a good Orissan citizen nearly prevailed. What I ought to do, I thought, is to confront the Magistrates and the Evocators tomorrow. I could show them proof things were not as they believed. There was the blood of Ismet and the other murdered Guardswomen for evidence. Some of us had even witnessed the demons who’d killed them.

  Yes, I thought, this is a fool’s errand I’m on.

  It was then I saw the panther. She was crouched by the main gate, peering through the bars. She turned her head and looked at me, eyes glowing in a beam of moonlight that’d escaped the shadows. I felt a tug, as if she were beckoning. Then she turned back, rose to her feet, and ghosted through the bars to disappear on the other side.

  From Polillo’s lack of reaction, I knew she hadn’t seen the big cat. I signaled her and we slithered across the grounds to the gate. We knelt by it, checking for a guard, but once again we saw no one about. Then I spotted something clinging to one of the bars.

  Looking closer, I saw it was a tuft of black fur. It had the powerful odor of cat. I plucked it off and nearly to
ssed it away. But some instinct intervened and I put it in my pocket instead. Then I motioned to Polillo — it was time.

  She boosted me to the top of the gate. As I balanced there, she leaped, grabbed the topmost crossbar and swung over to drop on the other side. Marvel at my friend’s great strength steeled my confidence; I jumped and she caught me in her arms and set me softly down. I grinned at her — just like old times!

  She buried a laugh, thumped me on the back and together we slipped down the path to the Palace.

  Off to the side I saw the panther again. She was waiting beneath the arch of a small doorway partly hidden by the thick-columned trunk of a poplar. When I turned toward her she vanished inside.

  Polillo was as surprised as I was when we came to the arch and found it was nothing more than an empty frame. It was as if the carpenter had built the frame, then became so busy with other things he forgot to mount the door. We waited for a long time to make sure there was no one lurking for us inside. I probed forward with my senses, but found nothing magical to impede us. Polillo unlimbered her ax and I drew my sword.

  I nodded to her and we entered. As we went inside I had a mad thought — if they do catch us, we can always feign drunkenness. No one ever doubts a soldier when she says liquor made her do it.

  We entered a long, dark corridor. Its walls were smooth and blank, made of some kind of black metal. As we cautiously made out way down it and saw the lack of doors or openings on either side, our tension grew, realizing there was no escape but the way we’d come.

  The corridor spilled out into an immense chamber, lit only by cold moonlight spilling in through the high windows. As one part of me sniffed for danger, another wondered how the room could be so dark, if from outside we’d seen light pouring through the windows.

  Then my head was spinning faster as I saw the chamber was entirely empty — not one bench, not one bit of decoration, not even a fireplace to stave off a winter’s chill. The only other egress besides the one we stood in was far across the chamber. It gaped like a single dead eye. We slunk toward it, hugging the dark, metallic walls. As we passed one of the windows, Polillo’s hand suddenly gripped my shoulder hard.