The Heir (Fall of the Swords Book 3)

by Scott Michael Decker

  “You're beautiful,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “Do I have to wait until tomorrow?”

  He chuckled. “The ceremony isn't for just you and me. All bandits must know, see and recognize our mateship. We must make it known that we'll govern together, neither of us dominant, neither submissive.”

  “That has nothing to do with my wanting to submit to you now,” she said, smiling seductively.

  “It does, though, miss tiger in heat,” he replied, laughing. “If we consummate before the ceremony, then it becomes a show for their benefit. They'll know it, and it no longer serves our needs. If we remain chaste, though, they'll know that we honor tradition and that the ceremony is primarily for us. Mating before our fellow bandits gives our matrimony a legitimacy it wouldn't have if the ceremony were private or post-coital.”

  “We've already fornicated!” she protested, remembering that night almost a year ago, just as she knew he was remembering.

  His smile warmed her down to her toes. “While we've made no secret that Burning Tiger's our son, his conception took place before your father said he was considering investing me with the power of command within the Tiger Raiders. It was a different life for both of us.”

  “I suppose so,” she replied, frowning. “I don't want to wait!” Purring Tiger crawled closer and put her head in his lap. “Why have the fete begin at dawn, but the actual ceremony at dusk, eh? Then I'll have to wait until after dark before …” She sighed, feeling content and anxious and aroused.

  Seeking Sword smiled, threading his fingers through her wealth of midnight hair. “We have to hold the guest competitions sometime. I wish we could have the ceremony in the morning, consummate our mateship during the day. Then join the fete and the feasting and the revelry afterward.”

  “That's what I want! These contests, they're important too, eh? You'll win most of them, won't you? You'll show these motherless turds what a real bandit can do.”

  He frowned at her. “Then after we're mated, I won't have to fight every foolish young man who thinks his blade is sharper than mine.”

  “That's why Father made me promise to mate you. He said, 'Nothing will destroy this band faster than every man's letting his erection do his thinking for him.' He was right! You wouldn't believe the looks I got before we announced our betrothal! I could have killed every man in the place, I was so angry. Why do men do that, eh? Too many hormones or something?”

  The Bandit shrugged.

  She noticed his shrinking. “Sorry, I didn't want that to happen.” She burrowed her head deeper into his lap, stiffening him again. “I know it's all necessary to legitimize your leadership. Is that why you made yourself so visible? I couldn't find a guard able to keep up with you.”

  “I'll have to know the fortress intimately anyway. Better now than later.” He smiled. “Every few hours, I've had to escape from the groups of females that always seem to collect in my wake.”

  “You wouldn't believe the rumors about your sexual prowess.”

  “I haven't touched a single one of them!” he protested.

  “I know,” she said, “but the stories get juicier every day.”

  “Now there, that's an example of what you were talking about.” Seeking Sword shook his head. “You complain first that men think with their penises, eh? Yet you women pressure men to be virile to such an extent that if their swords aren't ready for the nearest maiden's sheath then they're less than men. Women!”

  “Men!” Then she laughed, her serious mien falling from her. “It doesn't matter. You're man enough for me, and that's what counts.”

  “Well, good. Sometimes, though, I get the feeling that if I so much as winked at every woman I met, she'd faint with her legs wide open.”

  “I certainly would!”

  They had to pull apart when a servant interrupted them. Raging River wanted to see Purring Tiger, so they also had to sit apart.

  Walking north in the early morning light of the next day, Purring Tiger smiled, wanting him more than she thought possible. She felt good to want a man who wanted her as much. She felt his presence even though he was miles behind her.

  * * *

  Miles behind her, Seeking Sword stepped from the fortress and paused to fill his lungs with the fresh morning air. Like her, he wore robes of black, and over them the formal battle regalia of a general. As he walked, he jingled and rattled. As the day progressed the Bandit would change clothes many times for the various competitions and finally re-garb himself as he was now for the actual mating ceremony.

  Like her, he wore no weapons, a custom as ancient as the ceremony itself. Behind the Bandit was a ceremonial pair of guards—Slithering Snake, who carried the Bandit's sword, and Flashing Blade, who had become a willing vassal in the short time he had come to know Seeking Sword.

  So much had changed for the Bandit in eleven days.

  First he impersonated Flaming Arrow flawlessly, establishing beyond doubt that the two of them were so physically similar that they might have been identical twins. Then he dreamt he saw the heads of Scowling Tiger and Thinking Quick in the dirt, but later discovered it hadn't been a dream. He fought his way back to the fortress, only Slithering Snake and Flashing Blade surviving with him. On the last leg of the journey he had what Easing Comfort called a dissociative lapse and everyone else called a “psychic storm.”

  From the time the Bandit entered the fortress until today, he had worn himself out each day, exploring the edifice, meeting the people who kept it running, asking exhaustive questions about everything, and only taking his meals with his betrothed.

  When they had agreed that first day to consummate their mateship only after they were officially, publicly mated, he knew to adhere to the agreement he would have to feel so tired at the end of each day that fornicating was physically impossible for him. Even so after every meal he was hungry still and not for food. Each moment they spent together seemed a moment removed from time, his fondness for her growing gradually. Remembering the stories about the vicious, man-killing girl, he found it difficult to comprehend that this woman he was growing to love was the same person. When he asked about it she merely said she had been establishing a reputation worthy of respect. That in doing so she had killed more than thirty bandits bothered him but not her. Still he treasured her and respected her.

  Also incredible was his son Burning Tiger, with whom he spent a few hours each day. The two-month old boy with strawberry hair and pale gray eyes was a joy to hold, to feed, to change. Seeking Sword revelled in the miracle of this his first-born son. At first he held the child tentatively, afraid the infant might break. As he gained confidence, he found himself feeling more comfortable with caring and nurturing the child. Each day now he looked forward to holding and loving the boy. After a few days Purring Tiger told him he was the only man the child tolerated, as if Burning Tiger knew who his father was.

  Seeking Sword wanted as much to become Purring Tiger's mate as he did Burning Tiger's father. Filled with the anticipation of becoming a Tiger Raider, a father, a mate, he walked north- his feet hardly touching the ground.

  Between the betrothed was the baggage train carrying all the food, scaffolding, bunting, cushions and other supplies needed for the fete. The baggage train was so long that she arrived at the site moments after he left the fortress.

  The Tiger Raiders' staging such a spectacle in the aftermath of such tragedy was a deliberate statement of blatant arrogance. They had issued invitations to the leaders and other important personages in all the other bands. Thus far only Leaping Elk had confirmed he would attend. Too many bandits feared where and when the Heir would strike next.

  Slithering Snake had stated his objections plainly, the only one to do so. “You'll be slighting the efforts of every bandit who has died defending his liege lord or a Council installation!” Slithering Snake had protested to him privately, three days before.

  “I agree, my friend,” the Bandit had replied. “I'll think of someth
ing to honor those who died defending the northern lands. More important, we'll tell the Heir and his Empire to put their attacks in their collective back passage.”

  Being Leaping Elk's ambassador to the Tiger Raiders, and Seeking Sword's friend, Slithering Snake had continued to press for a cancellation of the ceremony, or at least a smaller, more private one. With a little persuasion and a place of honor in the ceremony, the Bandit had convinced the sectathon at least to keep quiet about his fears.

  For truly, Seeking Sword shared them too. There were those who would accuse the Tiger Raiders of being disrespectful toward the dead, and those who would question why the Tiger Raiders would stage such a fete but wouldn't help the bands whose leaders were the Heir's likely targets. The Bandit knew that the assassinations and subsequent attacks would have to run their course—like any plague. The Tiger Raiders could do nothing to help.

  The young man walked northward on the day of his mating, following the north south road. He didn't find it easy to balance the reconstruction of the Northern Empire with the protection of a few thousand bandits. Glancing over his shoulder at Slithering Snake, he smiled. I won't lack help, Seeking Sword thought.

  When the three men were halfway to their destination, Slithering Snake stopped suddenly and looked back toward the fortress. “Lord Sword,” he said, a smile breaking his face wide. “The flow reports that the Heir has returned to Emparia Castle, and Aged Oak's ordered all Imperial Warriors back across the border!”

  The Bandit smiled as well, but felt puzzled. “Why? What happened?”

  Flashing Blade listened a moment to the psychic flow. “Someone almost assassinated Flying Arrow, Lord Sword. Imperial sources say the assassin was Lofty Lion, former Emperor of the Northern Empire.”

  Slithering Snake shook his head. “That can't be right! The image on the flow, Lord Sword, is of your father.”

  “Eh? You must be wrong!”

  “How I wish you had some talent right now,” Slithering Snake said, “so you could see the image. I swear upon the Infinite that the man who tried to assassinate Flying Arrow looks exactly like your father.”

  The Bandit felt suddenly faint, and closed his eyes. “What happened to him?”

  “A medacor and the General Scratching Wolf found the Emperor and—”

  “To my father! What happened to my father!”

  Slithering Snake frowned. “They captured him, Lord, and are holding him in the dungeons of Emparia Castle.”

  Seeking Sword closed his eyes and lowered himself to his haunches, rage building inside him. He wanted to tear off the ceremonial clothes and armor, take his sword from the sectathon, march across the border, take Emparia Castle by siege and rescue his father from the dungeons.

  “Lord Sword,” Slithering Snake said gently, kneeling beside the younger man, “what can you do? It's in the hands of the Infinite now.”

  The Bandit nodded, his eyes filling with tears. A tight band of muscle cut across his chest like a bow-string. “Who would know, my friend? Who would know if my father was once the former Emperor?”

  “I remember talk many years ago,” the sectathon said, “but—”

  “Talk? Rumor and speculation? I need fact, Lord Snake! Who would know, eh?”

  Slithering Snake nodded. “I can understand your need to know the truth. Your father, Guarding Bear perhaps, Flying Arrow, Aged Oak maybe, and quite possibly Leaping Elk.”

  “Lord Sword,” Flashing Blade said, “if your father weren't Lofty Lion, how could he get close enough to Flying Arrow to attempt an assassination?”

  The Bandit nodded at the pyrathon. “Indeed, Lord Blade.” Standing, he resumed his progress north, his euphoria destroyed, the thought of his father in the dungeons of Emparia Castle casting a pall upon him. The other two men caught up with him.

  “What I don't understand,” Flashing Blade said, “is why Lofty Lion and Flying Arrow would meet. What possible business could they have?”

  The Bandit didn't know, his thinking sluggish. He realized why his brains felt like mud. Once more his terrible purpose showed him another facet. All the training and teaching that Leaping Elk had ordered for him fell into place. All the attention and honor Scowling Tiger had shown him made sense as well.

  If Lofty Lion were his father, then he was heir to the northern lands.

  Seeking Sword dropped to his knees and reverently scooped up a double handful of dirt. As he let it sift through his hands, he thought:

  This land is mine!

  Chapter 23

  Healing Hand knew he might die if the wrong person discovered he had the Medacor Sword. The benefits in his mind outweighed the risks. Before acquiring it, he had already developed his talents to such an extent that they called him the best Wizard-Medacor in all reigns of the seven Emperors Arrow. At seven years old, he and five other Wizards had put to sleep over ten thousand bandits. At twenty-two, with the augmentation of the Medacor Sword, he alone could have done the same to twice that number. The talisman effectively doubled the strengths of his primary talents and made his secondary talents, ones he possessed in only trace amounts, seem like primary ones. For instance, his pyrokinesis was so weak that he could get only a dry pine needle to smolder. With the sword, he could set fire to a wet log in an instant. In addition to invisibility, focus and storage capabilities, the sword had implant-design memory, frequency-scrambling circuits, automatic psychic-energy absorption units, and a psychic signature identification memory, as well as circuits whose purpose Healing Hand hadn't yet determined.—Wizard and Medacor, by the Matriarch Rippling Water.

  * * *

  A silver chain loosely encircling its neck, the grizzly bear reared on its hind legs. Easily taller than everyone present, the animal placed its forepaws on Guarding Bear's shoulders. One paw snagged the links of the gold pendant around the man's neck. The General looked oblivious to the potential danger. The bear snarled and looked as if it were trying to bite off Guarding Bear's ear. Yanking its head backward, the bear broke the gold chain and tossed the pendant away in one motion. The General seemed not to notice.

  Snarling Jaguar grabbed a gnarled, calloused hand and wrapped the fingers around the solid silver links so the General in his diminished capacity wouldn't drop the chain. The Emperor then stepped away from bear and man. Unobtrusively, he picked up the gold pendant that the bear had torn from around Guarding Bear's neck.

  Stepping forward, the trainer issued telepathic instructions to the bear. Pulling a portable shield from her belt, she set it, hooked the shield to Guarding Bear's sash and stepped away from the pair. The bear dropped to all fours, the silver chain around its neck chinking merrily. The animal stepped northward, pulling the obedient, silver-haired General along.

  Snarling Jaguar and a large entourage had accompanied Rippling Water and her small retinue of servants to Swan Valley to make the formal exchange of merchandise, completing the trade as the Matriarch Bubbling Water and the Emperor had agreed sixteen years before. In addition to the inevitable functionaries and sycophants, Snarling Jaguar had brought a detachment of warriors three hundred strong—a small honor guard for an Emperor. The brown and gold garbed guards sat at attention on their haunches in orderly rows, a sword across each warrior's lap.

  From Emparia City at Rippling Water's behest had come Guarding Bear and the six children for whom Snarling Jaguar had just exchanged the bear. Standing in a small group near the ranks of Southern Warriors, the siblings were all fifteen years old and all of mixed extraction, some of them as dark as their father the Emperor, some as light as their mother the Matriarch. Each sibling was physically attractive. Each was a Wizard of his or her primary talent. Each was an example of hybrid vigor.

  With the retired, insane General and the six progeny of miscegenation had come a surprise. The Medacor Apprentice Healing Hand had accompanied Guarding Bear and the six siblings south, saying when he arrived, “I felt my presence was necessary.”

  Rippling Water watched her father blindly follow the bear, h
er heart breaking. “Lord Emperor,” she asked, turning, “what still needs doing to finish the animal's training? Can a psychological Wizard complete it?”

  The Emperor looked at the trainer with a telepathic inquiry. “Yes, Lady Water. Why do you ask?”

  “Lord Hand,” she said, looking toward the Wizard-Medacor, standing several paces away.

  Healing Hand stepped toward them, one large hand on the haft of the sword at his side. The weapon looked unusual on a man whose vocation was healing. “Yes, Lady Water?” he said, bowing, his demeanor placid and emanations soothing.

  “I've found a 'need' for you, my friend,” she said, smiling.

  “The trainers haven't fully finished with the bear, Lord Hand,” Snarling Jaguar said. “You're probably more than capable of the work required. The Lord Imperial Trainer will instruct you, if you're amenable to the task.”

  “Happily, Lord Emperor, Lady Water.” Healing Hand bowed to them both, then approached the trainer.

  At that moment, the news reached them on the psychic flow: Lofty Lion had almost assassinated Flying Arrow.

  Rippling Water swayed in place, as though the world had shifted off its axis. Snarling Jaguar, she saw, was rubbing his chest with the palm of his hand. She looked toward her father. Guarding Bear had turned his face up at the sky. She couldn't tell if he was laughing.

  Shocked at the assassination attempt, relieved that Flying Arrow was still alive, Rippling Water was also perplexed. “I thought Lofty Lion died almost thirty years ago.”

  * * *

  Snarling Jaguar feigned his bewilderment. The news that an Emperor had almost fallen to assassination had shocked and dismayed him, of course. It implied he wasn't invulnerable. That the assassin was Lofty Lion didn't surprise him. He waited patiently while the full report reached them—the extent of the Emperor's injuries, the time and circumstances of the assassination attempt, the fate of the assassin and the weapon he used. Then he stepped up to Rippling Water and whispered, “I didn't tell you the other day that I suspect Icy Wind was once Lofty Lion.”