Upon a Burning Throne

by Ashok K. Banker

  “Princess Mayla may be right,” Vida said. “Nobody knows the full extent of Jarsun’s powers. He displays new talents in each encounter, adapting his resources and magical abilities to match the circumstances. What he did here with the human chains is something he has never done before. I know because I have read the history. For instance, on one occasion during the fifteenth siege of Mraashk—”

  They never got to hear what Jarsun did at the fifteenth siege of Mraashk. The ground tilted suddenly underfoot, first one way then the other, then the entire city began to shake and tremble around them. Plaster and brick dust crumbled from the broken walls, loose stones rolled from the cracked streets, and debris from the houses began falling from all directions.

  “It’s on the move!” Mayla cried, hooking her elbow and one foot around a pillar and offering Shvate her free arm. He grasped her forearm and used the support till he could find something more solid to hold on to. Vida exclaimed and grabbed on to a half wall just in time. The street began shaking from side to side as the city raised itself high on its tentacles and began moving around in huge strides that spanned a dozen yards at a time.

  Shvate looked down and saw the tentacles lashing out at his forces, knocking entire companies of infantry and cavalry down like they were wooden toys. He saw his brave soldiers fighting back as best as they could, using arrows, spears, javelins, even flaming missiles. It was strange to be watching the slaughter of his own army from the enemy side. It made him feel sick.

  “We have to find a way to stop this wretched thing,” he shouted at Vida above the noise of the city and the battle.

  “Our best chance is to keep moving upward, to the top of the city, as I said before. I am certain the brain is up there somewhere. That is where we shall find its most vulnerable point.”

  Shvate craned his neck to look up at the top of Reygar. The street they were on was the main street of the city, the kingsroad as it was called. It wound its way around the city-mountain for an entire mile before ending at the peak. The street was built on a very gradual incline, with buildings constructed on natural ledges of mountainside, to make it easier for men and beasts of burden to climb all the way, but it was still a steep gradient. And with the city moving and tilting constantly, it was a challenge just to keep themselves from being thrown free of solid ground. A fall from even a hundred yards high was enough to kill anyone; if they fell from up here, General Prishata wouldn’t even be able to reassemble their body parts.

  “Let’s stop talking about it, then, and do it,” Shvate said.

  He made the first move, climbing upward along the street, using pillars, walls, even the cracks in the street to assist in the climb.

  The three climbed for the next hour, often forced to stop as the city swayed and shook like a bucking bull trying to free itself of unwanted riders. Shvate was furious at the toll being taken on his forces, but as Mayla reminded him, they were already taking the most effective action possible. All that mattered was stopping this monstrosity by any means, and Vida’s theory was the only one that offered any possible solution.

  All through their long, arduous climb, there remained no sign of any of Reygar’s denizens. Not so much as a single human being, man, woman, or child. Not even a dog, a cat, nor rodents of any kind. There was something very strange about the experience of climbing through an entirely deserted city of such size and scope. They passed hovels which must have housed the very poor and mansions that housed the very rich, great estates and tiny tenements. All equally deserted.

  There was little to be gained from talking—the noise and movement was so great that it required every ounce of their strength and concentration simply to ensure they did not fall. Climbing was a challenge akin to climbing a mountain which was shuddering in the throes of an earthquake.

  Hours of climbing later, they stood, exhausted and bathed in perspiration, a full mile above the ground.

  The sun had risen high in the sky during their climb, and the heat was scorching hot. Mercifully, the houses and the city itself blocked most of the sunlight, though even the occasional flashes and reflections were torturous to Shvate. From time to time, when the city turned and was directly facing the sun, he was forced to seek shelter till they were in the shade again.

  The brightness at such moments blinded him near totally. He relied more and more on Mayla’s eyesight and grit to keep them going. She was a staunch ally, always warning him just in time to avoid being blasted by direct exposure and quick to tell him when it was safe to move on. He cursed his condition more than once, but Mayla reminded him that they would have had to pause from time to time for respite anyway. His heart filled with love for her. He kissed her on the lips, unmindful of the coating of dust and sand that covered them both.

  “What would I do without you?” he said.

  She grinned at him, her bright green eyes the only clear spots on her grimy face. Even her eyelashes had dust on them. “You would be kissing your other wife, Karni,” she said with her usual spirit.

  He laughed. “I love you both.”

  “We love you too,” she said, giving him another quick kiss. “That’s from my sister wife.”

  When they turned back, they saw Vida staring at something.

  “Brother?”

  Vida looked back at Shvate, holding on to a doorway as the city shuddered and shook. “I think I have the answer,” he said.

  There was no need to shout anymore, as the noise and falling debris were far below them now. They were cocooned above the clouds in a pocket of quiet. Even the shaking and moving of the city was not as intense as it was lower down.

  “The answer to what?” Shvate said.

  “To everything,” Vida replied. He pointed above their heads. “It lies in there.”

  Shvate peered up at the structure Vida was pointing at, on the street just above the one they were standing on. It was less than ten yards further up the mountain, but a good hundred and fifty yards from the actual peak.

  It was a squat, nondescript building with a large ungated entranceway. There were no sigils or markings anywhere on the front that Shvate could see, and it was unusual only in that he could not make out its function. It looked neither like a domicile nor a place of business. Simply a rectangular structure of indeterminate purpose.

  “Are you sure?” He was doubtful. “That doesn’t look like a palace.”

  Vida’s voice was very quiet now, but firm. “I am certain. That is what we seek. The answer lies in there.”

  Shvate nodded. If Vida said that was their destination, it was good enough for him. “All right, then. I’ll go first, you stay close behind me. Mayla, you bring up the rear.”

  “To hell with that,” she retorted, and before Shvate could object, she began running up the street, leaping from pole to wall to tilted house, using whatever was at hand to climb the last several yards to their destination. Shvate sighed and followed her. “Come on, Vida.”

  They entered the structure cautiously, weapons drawn and ready, moving in a triangular formation, alert for anything that might await them.

  2

  The darkness that greeted them was absolute. Shvate looked back at the entrance they had come through, but it had disappeared behind them, only a few yards after they had walked through it. How was that possible? Unless night had abruptly fallen outside, they should have been able to see the square of light marking the doorway. But there was nothing. Just pitch-blackness in all directions.

  “It’s too dark,” Mayla whispered beside him. “I can’t see.”

  “Nor can I,” he replied. “But we have no means to light our way. Vida?”

  “Yes, brother,” came the response from his other side. “Give me a moment.”

  They waited in the darkness. Shvate noted that the interior of the structure felt noticeably cooler than outside. But it was more than the mere absence of sunlight. There was a chill in here that sank into the bone. There was also an odor, something very familiar but uncommon. It reminded h
im of the tunnel under the desert, and he braced himself for more horrific sights of supernatural monstrosity. But Shvate was also very conscious of the numbers Vida had reeled off earlier, of the army of Reygistan and the population of Reygar. All those people had to be somewhere. He sniffed the air, expecting to smell carnage, blood, sweat . . . something indicating the presence of people inside this dark stone box. But there was only the same odd odor, maddeningly familiar yet somehow also strange—definitely not the typical smells of human exudation.

  A light appeared ahead, surprising Shvate. It seemed to spark out of nowhere at first, illuminating himself, Mayla, and Vida. It was not a flame from a lamp or a torch, but a faint greenish glow that provided a smoky illumination that was just sufficient to make out the shapes and outlines of objects, but not enough to reveal much detail; he could see Mayla’s outline and make out the curves of her body and the lines of her angular face, but he could not see details of her anatomy or features.

  Vida was better illuminated, but the reason for that turned out to be because he himself was the source of the light. Shvate’s half brother was holding something that looked like an ordinary stone, flat and about as broad as the palm of his hand, but the surface of the stone itself gave off some kind of greenish glow; this was the source of the illumination.

  “A rock that burns!” The awe in Mayla’s voice was matched by the amazement in her face as she peered at the stone in Vida’s hand.

  “It is a natural phenomenon,” Vida said, “found in many underground caverns. The light is caused by some manner of radiation, I believe. I found a piece of it while exploring subterranean caverns. It has stayed in my pouch ever since. I thought it might be of use on this expedition.”

  Shirrrrrrr.

  “Quiet.” Shvate raised his sword, turning to face the direction from which he had heard the sound. He had whispered the admonition, but his voice sounded louder in this black space. “Give me the light.”

  Vida handed over the stone. Shvate took it and held it out as far as his arm would reach, in the direction from which the sound had come. The stone’s light faded to a dullness at two yards that made it impossible to tell even shapes or outlines. But Shvate saw something ahead that was moving, and that was enough for him. He took a step, then another step, then a third and fourth, his sword held ready in his left fist, right hand holding out the stone at an angle away from his face to avoid getting its light in his eyes directly.

  He could glimpse something in the darkness ahead. A swirling like a person wearing a large thick cloak.

  It moved again, and he was certain this time that it was a person. It wavered before him, hanging in the air, as the light caught only the edges and outline of the cloak without illuminating the person within the garment. But as he had experienced in the thick of battle, it was the movement that mattered more than the details. One did not need to see an opponent’s face, handsome or otherwise, to know that they had violence in mind.

  The apparition before him was preparing to attack, he was certain of that. Shvate took another step, preparing to strike at the moving shadow.

  “Shvate, stop! Look down!”

  Mayla’s voice brought him to a halt. He kept his eyes on the swirling cloak before him, then quickly flicked his view down. What he saw made him catch his breath.

  The ground fell away beneath his feet, yielding to an abyss that stretched on seemingly forever. Of course, the light of the stone could not illuminate it entirely, but there were pebbles underfoot, and his foot had dislodged them, sending them falling into the abyss, and he could not hear them striking ground. That meant a very long fall. As high as the mountain itself, perhaps.

  He swallowed and stepped back, one, then two steps. He felt Mayla’s strong grip take hold of his arm, gripping the muscle of his right biceps with both hands. His left hand was still free, and he had kept his sword upheld, a soldier’s instinct. But when he raised his eyes to look at the enemy he had sensed earlier, he now saw nothing except darkness, and he felt a wind from below, blowing upward, cool and redolent of moisture. There was water somewhere below, far below. And it was icy cold.

  “You almost fell,” his wife said, holding onto him hard enough that his arm, where she clutched it, ached. “I thought—”

  “Vida,” Shvate said, interrupting Mayla. “What is this place? Where are we?”

  Vida’s face swam into focus as he stepped closer to Shvate, into the reach of the light. The green illumination lit up his features, shading half his face in shadow, painting the other half leaf green. There were dark sockets where his eyes should have been, only a dull greenish gleam reflecting from the eye in the strange light. “In the heart of the mountain city. The heart of Reygar. This is where we shall find our enemy, and only by finding him and killing him can we stop the city-beast from rampaging and destroying our forces. Brother, you have to find Jarsun here and kill him if we are to win this battle. It is the only way.”

  Shvate studied Vida, trying to see his face clearly and failing. Vida’s half-shadowed face and the strange way his voice resonated here in this place made him sound very different. There was something about his voice that made Shvate’s hackles rise. “How are you so certain?”

  “The heart of the city is in here, I am certain of it.”

  Shvate raised his head and tried to look around. He could see nothing except endless darkness in every direction. Now that he had stepped back from the edge of the abyss, even the little patch of ground beneath his feet seemed solid rock. All he could tell for certain was that they were inside some kind of cavern. He sensed that it was the inside of the mountain, a natural cavern carved from eons of ice melt dripping from the peak down through the center. He had seen similar places before. But there was no sound nor sign of any living being. Even the floating cloak he thought he had seen was just a trick of the darkness, his own warrior’s instinct warning him of possible danger even where there was none. What did Vida see or sense that Shvate could not?

  He reminded himself for the thousandth time that Vida thought and analyzed information differently than anyone Shvate had ever met. This was why he was a genius, and, indeed, even Vrath had said so in open sabha.

  The city-mountain was still now, undergoing another period of rest. But soon enough, in an hour or two, it would resume its relentless assaults. How much of the Krushan army was already dead or maimed? A third? Half? He sensed that Reygar would not cease attacking until his army was either wiped out or had withdrawn. And if he withdrew, that would mean surrender. It would mean that Hastinaga had failed to overcome the might of Reygistan. That Jarsun had triumphed. The implications would be terrible, the consequences monumental. It could lead to another uprising, another alliance against them. And it would almost certainly mean the end of Shvate’s ambition to be a future king of Hastinaga.

  If Vida said he was sure, then Shvate was sure too.

  “Very well, brother,” Shvate said. “But how do I find our enemy in this darkness? Where do I go?”

  Vida took the stone from Shvate’s hand and stretched his own arm outwards, in the direction of the chasm. “You must go down into this abyss to seek him out and end this battle. It is the only way.”

  Mayla swore into Shvate’s ear. She had relaxed her grip on his biceps but was still holding it lightly, and at Vida’s words he felt her fingers tighten again as if preparing to hold him back. “Are you insane, Vida? All that lies below is death! How dare you give my beloved husband such cruel advice?”

  “I am sorry, sister Mayla. It is the only way. Otherwise, we will surely lose this battle and who knows what else besides, and if we do, it will be the beginning of the end, as Vrath said. Once Hastinaga begins to lose, it will continue to do so. We cannot back away from a challenge, however deadly. We are Krushan. Whatever the odds, we stand and fight. It is our Krushan law.”

  “Vida is right,” Shvate said. “If that is the only way, then into this abyss is where I must go.”

  Mayla squeezed his arm h
ard enough to hurt, surprising Shvate again with her strength. “If that is where you must go, then it is where I go as well. Where Shvate goes, Mayla follows—always.”

  Shvate turned his head to look at her. Her face was a faint greenish smear against the darkness but he could feel her pulse beneath her palm as she held his arm tightly. He felt her life and resolve and strength, her love for him beating strong in her heart. “So be it.” He reached with his hand, touching her hip, her waist, and the arch of her back. He found her hand and grasped it in his own, squeezing it lightly. “Come then, my love, let us embrace the darkness together. Whatever dangers it holds, we face them together.”

  With that, they stepped forward together, seeking a way into the abyss. Shvate held the stone before him, searching for steps cut into the rock—any means by which they might descend. Here at the edge, the light from the stone seemed to glow brighter. Shvate was pleased because he could now see the ground underfoot more clearly, even the way ahead for several yards. The downside was that he could also see the edge of the abyss, which even for a man as brave as he was a terrifying thing to stand beside. The light grew even brighter then, now illuminating the entire chamber. He frowned, and thought that surely all that light could not be coming from a single stone—and then looked up and saw that it was not the stone at all: this new illumination was coming from elsewhere.

  An oval of deep crimson light had appeared in midair, suspended above the abyss. It hung there, throbbing, pulsing with light, brightening then darkening, brightening again and darkening again. This pulsing became a steady rhythm, and each time it pulsed, the light grew brighter yet, until it was so bright it could barely be looked upon, forcing Shvate and the others to raise their arms to shield their eyes. The illumination cast by the oval shape was reddish, but at its center it was hot white light, so bright that it was not possible to stare directly at it. That core blazed like a fire yet the waves emanating from it were not hot but cold. An icy chill pervaded the space, and Shvate saw his own breath condensing into mist as he exhaled. He glanced at Vida and Mayla, seeing puffs of mist emerge from their lips as well.