Kyrik and the Lost Queen

by Gardner F Fox

  "Now how can I reach that thing? It's twice the height of a tall man away from me and even if I had a ladder...."

  Your sword! Use your sword to shatter the pillar.

  Kyrik scratched his poll. Bluefang was more than a sword, it was almost a part of him. Risk its keen edge against that glowing stone? Not he!

  It will shatter, my love. His shoulders lifted in a shrug. He drew the sword, swung it hard against that pillar. He did not turn the edge against that stone, but the flat side. Steel struck that brightness –

  An arpeggio of silver notes floated in the air. Cracks ran up and down its surface. The shrill music grew harsher, toneless as these arpeggios ran together and shattered, fading off into tinkling notes and then silence.

  The pillar began to crumble.

  Pieces of what looked to be glass cracked and tinkled as they fell about his feet. Those bits of glass-like substance still glowed, gave off a dimming radiance. High above, the thing that throbbed and glowed began to fall.

  Kyrik put out his hand, caught it. It was like a large jewel, frostily glittering. It was cold on his palm, like ice. It was heavy, and deep in its heart was the cold fire that seemed to give it its name.

  Long ago was that firestone forged, by those whom men call the gods. It was used to quell Marrassa, by its powers they imprisoned him.

  Illis spoke into his mind, telling him of the manner in which the gods had used the firestone against that which bore the name Marrassa. When Marrassa had been put away, the firestone was forgotten by the gods.

  Marrassa did not forget. Even from his prison he sent men to find that firestone and by his magicks—for though he was a prisoner, there were worshipers who could call upon his powers—he caused that firestone to be placed within the pillar, where Lalathor was to guard it.

  Now he had found it. Now Kyrik could use that power against Marrassa of the evil heart. You will need it, Kyrik! Aye, you will Hastily, he shoved the firestone out of sight, deep. within his pouch and beside the crystal ball where Illis dwelt. Let her contend with its iciness!

  The brightness of the glass-like substance was fading. It grew gloomier and darker, here in this cavern, and Kyrik shrugged against the chill that touched his flesh. His eyes touched the sleeping Adorla, and then they roamed about the cavern walls until they stared at the still waters of the lagoon."

  He did not want to go into those waters, he was not sure whether he had killed the thing that was named Lalathor, and he had no desire to meet it under water. He moved toward Adorla Mathandis who was stirring restlessly.

  He waited until her eyes opened, then he said, “We must get out of here."

  "It's dark. Wha—what happened?" He told her how he had broken the pillar to get the firestone. Now that the firestone was in his belt-pouch, it no longer shed its radiance here in the cavern.

  She rose with his hand helping her and crowded close to him. Her eyes touched the calm waters, and she shivered.

  "Do we have to go down into that?" Kyrik moved, feeling the touch of cold air. His head lifted and he sniffed. Was he going mad, or was that the smell of food cooking?

  It grew darker, dimmer in that cavern. Soon it was almost pitch-black. Yet still he caught the scent of food over a fire, and felt the wind against his back.

  Kyrik turned. Now he could see cracks in the far wall, and through those cracks, the faintest suggestion of daylight. His arm tightened around the girl.

  "Up there. You can see it for yourself—a way out of this place. Come along."

  They strode across the cold stone floor, they mounted up over the broken bits of rock that had gathered at the base of a wall. Above them they could make out the cracks and openings in the rock, through which the wind and the smells of cooking food were coming.

  Kyrik lifted Adorla, pushed her though an opening, then clambered up and followed her. They found themselves in the bank of a high bluff. Before them they could see the cooking fires and the tents of a distant caravan, and men and animals all about them. Behind them was the river Thrumm.

  Catching the girl by the wrist, he drew her with him down the embankment and they walked toward those distant fires. As he strode along, he swung Bluefang before him, because no man viewed two wanderers in the night with happy eyes. There might be trouble.

  A dog barked, and a man came out of the shadows when they were within shouting distance of the fires. The man held an arrow to his bow and looked unfriendly.

  Kyrik raised his right hand, palm forward. "We're travelers, we've lost our way, and we're hungry. I can pay for our food."

  "Come on, then—but no tricks." Other men were watching. They had paused in their tasks and stood motionless, but their weapons were close to their hands. There was an alertness about them that told Kyrik better than words that these were no merchants with this caravan, but seasoned warriors. There was suspicion in their eyes, and readiness in the way they stood.

  The warriors drew back slightly, opening a path. At the end of that path was a tent, tall and ornate. There was a hush upon the camp. No man spoke and only the crackling of the flames as they ate at the wood of the campfires made any sound.

  The tent flap lifted and a man came out to stand watching Kyrik and the girl as they advanced. He was a tall man, clad in silvered mail and with an air of authority about him.

  Kyrik made a gesture of peace. "We're travelers, lately out of Domilik. We've just come from that pirate stronghold back there."

  His thumb jerked to indicate their footprints across the ground. The man in the silver mail did not alter his expression, which was cold and forbidding beneath his crop of thick gray hair.

  "No one leaves that pirate stronghold alive and with a woman—unless he is a pirate himself."

  Kyrik grinned. “Ask them back there if the man who slew Olyxus with his bare hands is a pirate."

  The man started. His hand fell from the tent flap to his belt, where he hooked his thumb. "What lie is this? Olyxus dead?"

  Adorla Mathandis pushed herself forward. Her silks clung to her body revealingly, but her head was high and there was pride in her dark brown eyes.

  "The man speaks truth, Kolindos," she stated. "What's that? Who are—“

  The tall man came away from the tent, to peer more closely at the woman. “That voice Surely I know it. But it cannot be!”

  "Whether it can or not—it is She was so regal, standing beside Kyrik, so queenly with her chin tilted high and her lips in a firm red line, that Kolindos blinked. A moment he stood frozen, his eyes alert and studying this woman with the long brown hair.

  Then he was on his knees before her. “Queen Adorla But—" She said softly, "You have come fast from Alkinoor, where you saw me on my throne?"

  He nodded dumbly. Kyrik saw that words struggled for freedom on his lips: he wanted to know how the queen of Alkinoor had come here beside a warrior in such a short time. Yet he was a war-captain only, it was not his task to question the woman who was his queen.

  Kyrik growled, "There has been treachery." Kolindos shot him a started look. At the same instant, Adorla put a hand to him and raised him to his feet, saying, "We would speak with you—in private."

  Kolindos rose, gestured to his warriors, lifted the tent flap to let Adorla Mathandis and Kyrik enter. He followed them, letting the flap drop, and stood with his back to the opening.

  Kyrik jerked a thumb at Adorla. "I found her in the alleyways of Domilok. She claims to have been spirited from Alkinoor to Domilok, and that she is queen of Alkinoor. I believe her, because my woman—who is her double—was stolen in her place.

  For a moment, the warlock-warrior thought Kolindos would disbelieve him. He had no proof of what he said, other than the presence of Adorla herself. Adorla may have had some such thoughts herself, because she stirred suddenly and gasped.

  "Your father was my father's captain of palace guards," she exclaimed. "As a boy, you played with me—and one day I pushed you into the palace pool when we were alone."

  Kolindos
smiled suddenly, nodding. "Aye. I remember that."

  "You did not blame me. You took the blame yourself, saying that you had been clumsy. You saved me from a spanking, Kolindos." Adorla smiled. "I have never forgotten that, nor have ceased to be grateful."

  The war-captain's hand gestured them to chairs. He himself remained standing. "Then it is a false queen who sits on the throne of Alkinoor?" he asked.

  Kyrik nodded. "Aye. But it isn't her fault. She's been drugged, I think—or under a spell. She does what someone tells her to do, and asks no questions."

  Adorla Mathandis smiled somewhat spitefully. Kyrik saw that smile, and wondered. She exclaimed softly, “Nevertheless, she does cooperate with Lyrrin Odanyor and with Ulmaran Dho. She sits on my throne."

  She left unsaid her decision that Myrnis must be punished, but Kyrik sensed her mood. Once Adorla Mathandis was queen again in Alkinoor, one of her first acts would be to punish Myrnis. Her decision glinted in her eyes.

  Kyrik shook himself like a giant bear newly waked from a winter sleep. He barely managed to avoid growling as he said, “Now that Adorla is safe in your hands, I'll be leaving you."

  The woman smiled faintly. “Na, na. I want you with me, Kyrik of the Victories. I have the feeling that without your help, I shall never rule again in Alkinoor.”

  Kyrik said, "I'm hungry." Kolindos roused himself from his thoughts. "I am a poor host. Of course you need food. And rest." As he lifted the tent-flap he looked back at Adorla.

  "They sent me here to destroy this pirate stronghold. Olyxus has been preying on our shipping."

  "They'd make sure you were out of the way,” Kyrik nodded. "You and any other war-captains still loyal to Adorla Mathandis."

  Adorla lifted her head and looked at him. "But if he believed this Myrnis to be me...."

  “One Lyrrin Odanyor and Ulmaran o Dho accomplish their purpose, will they have a need for her?"

  Kolindos came away from the tent-flap, scowling. "Do you mean they would kill her? This I cannot believe."

  Stubbornly, Kyrik shook his head. "Not they. Oh, no. Marrassa."

  The war-captain started and rasped a curse. Adorla tilted her head and stared at the warrior-warlock. “What are you hinting?" she whispered.

  Those broad shoulders lifted and fell. “It's plain enough, isn't it? If Marrassa were to claim Adorla Mathandis as his bride, would Lyrrin Odanyor or your high councilor keep her from him?"

  "No," whispered Adorla with a shudder. “She would be given to him as a sacrifice."

  "Then your high priest and your high councilor would rule in Alkinoor, with Marrassa's demoniac help. Until they quarreled, perhaps. But that would scarcely help Adorla Mathandis.".

  Kolindos breathed more harshly and squared his shoulders. "We will turn back and—“

  "You'll take that pirate stronghold, Kyrik told him. “It should fall easily enough with Olyxus dead. His lesser captains will be quarreling among themselves for the leadership. If you give them a little time, they'll start killing each other, so as to make your task a little easier."

  Adorla Mathandis sat up straighter. "Will you guide my men inside those walls, Kyrik?"

  "Not I. I'm heading north for Alkinoor. I mean to get Myrnis and take her out of that hell-hole."

  The girl locked her gaze with his. “Where you go, I go, too."

  He might have protested, but Kolindos grumbled, "You'd be safer here with my army, magesty.”

  She shook her head, hugging herself. "I am safe enough with Kyrik. You should see him fight, Kolindos! He is a hundred men in one. Na, na, I stay with him."

  "Then come along and eat," he said, and moved out of the tent.

  His eyes went from campfire to campfire, assessing the military strength of this little army Kolindos captained. They were good men, hard-bitten veterans, Kyrik saw. They cared for their weapons first, and then themselves. He decided that the pirate stronghold would fall soon enough to their attack.

  He gave his attention then to the steaming meats and hot soups which were being passed out by the cooks. With platters in hand, he made his way into the shadows where he sat on a fallen log and began to eat.

  From under thick eyebrows, he watched Adorla move from one fire to another, nibbling here and there. The firelight touched her almost naked body, scantily covered by the torn silks she had snatched up and put on. The warriors greeted her respectfully enough, and he supposed that Kolindos had passed the word that this was their queen.

  Night was a darkness all about them, and the wind had sharpened off the high hills. Kyrik filled his belly, then moved to place his platters with the others. He paused to run his eyes about the camp.

  Guards had been stationed. Off to one side, Kolindos conferred with his lesser officers. He moved toward the outer perimeter of the camp, walking slowly so as not to attract interest.

  He had no concern with Kolindos and his coming attack on that pirate stronghold. All he was interested in was Myrnis. If he should slip away now, nobody would bother following him. He would cross the barren lands and make for Alkinoor.

  In a city that size, no one would be watching for a stranger. He would enter the castle, find Myrnis, and take her away with him.

  Then they would shake the dust of these lands from their boots and slippers, and go back toward Domilok. After that, they would live for a time with the gypsies and make love, and Kyrik would have no worries.

  He stepped out into the darkness. “Wait, a voice whispered behind him. Kyrik swung about. Adorla Mathandis was running toward him, the firelight showing those silks to be almost transparent as they flapped about her body.

  She came up to him, saying, "If you're leaving, then I go with you."

  His scowl was black. “There'll be danger." She shrugged. "I'd rather face danger with you than a life of easy living with anyone else."

  He thought of shouting out to the soldiers that their queen was abandoning them. But he decided against it. If the girl wanted to come with him, then let her.

  He began to walk northward. Adorla followed after him, running like a small child at times to keep up.

  Chapter SIX

  For two days and two nights they walked through the barren lands, drenched with sweat under a hot sun by day and almost freezing at night. They spoke little together. Kyrik was too busy with his thoughts and Adorla Mathandis too weary to make conversation.

  On the evening of the third day they came in sight of fallen stones, and at first Kyrik assumed that he had come once again to that city from which he had taken the crystal that held Illis. But as he walked closer, he saw that this was but the remnants of an ancient building, long forgotten by the race of men, abandoned to the elements.

  He skirted the building, examining the fallen stones, searching for any sign of water. Where there might have been a well once, there was now only broken stones. Sighing, he moved on, and Adorla Mathandis came trotting after him.

  In time, when the two moons were beginning to rise above the horizon, the sound of trickling water caused Kyrik to turn and move westward toward it. He found a little stream meandering between the rocks and lay down to drink his fill.

  It was as he was rising that he saw the lights.

  They were ghostly, pallid, and they moved this way and that, rising upward from the ground.

  Kyrik crouched, staring, disbelieving what he saw. It was as if some evil, living thing were moving beneath the ground and shedding its light upward toward the stars.

  Kyrik did not realize it, but he was making a growling sound in his throat. He did not stop until a hand touched his arm and Adorla whispered, “What is it? What are those lights?"

  “Wizardry of some sort!” Ancient wizardry, Kyrik. Evil wizardry! He had forgotten Illis. Maybe she resented it, for if she could peer into his mind—as she seemed able to do—she would have known that he was concerned only with finding and rescuing Myrnis.

  He said now, "It is no concern of mine." It is! If you want to save your precious Myrnis, you'll go
to that tumble of rocks and stop what is about to happen.

  He knew better than to argue. Long ago, he had come to realize that Illis learned things he could not, and that her advice was always good. He rose to his feet, aware that Adorla was rising also, to stand beside him.

  “You stay here, he muttered. “I don't know what those lights are, but they won't be friendly."

  "I know what they are, she whispered, and terror was alive in her throat.

  She pressed closer to him so that he could feel the force of her trembling, and when he glanced down at her, he made out the fright that shook her body. Her eyes were fastened to those lights and her lips were dry so that her tongue came out to moisten them.

  "You asked me what they were. Why, if you know?"

  She shook her head. “I asked, but inside me, I knew. Those stones are those of an old temple to Marrassa. It flourished in the ages before the —the gods took Marrassa and put him away.

  “And now someone wants to bring Marrassa back from where the gods put him?"

  "Yes. Lyrrin Odanyor and Ulmaran Dho want Marrassa freed, to come once again to Alkinoor as he did in bygone ages."

  Kyrik muttered, “Here? In the barren lands?" Her smile was wry. "They were not barren in the years when Marrassa was a power in the land. No! They were fertile then, they bloomed and flourished, and men came from all over our world to bring gifts to curry Marrassa's favor."

  His eyes touched those quivering lights, saw how they rose up and then fell, and the mere sight of them put an atavistic terror in his soul. His hand went to Bluefang and he drew out his sword, not that it could help him at the moment but because, with his blade in his hand, a little of that fear abated.

  "Come," he growled, and began his walk. - Adorla Mathandis choked back her fear-cry, she ran after him, put a hand out to clasp a strap of his belt, to make certain that he did not abandon her. If Kyrik were killed, she meant to die beside him.