The Heir (Fall of the Swords Book 3)

by Scott Michael Decker

  He recovered himself in time to return the bow to the right depth. Then to honor her and her day of joining, he bowed further and held it.

  “Infinite be with you, Lord Leaping Elk,” she said. “You're very kind with your extravagant obeisance. Thank you for honoring us with your attendance.” Then she grinned. “When I'm speaking with you, I'd like not to yell.”

  Signaling his guards to hold their positions, Leaping Elk stepped forward, his sword still loose, his gaze on hers. “You thank for invite, Tiger Purring Lady. Infinite with you be,” he replied, having never heard her speak so pleasantly. “This humble bandit you joy wish, Tiger Lady. Happy time long, eh?”

  “Thank you for your blessing, Lord Elk. I appreciate your caring.”

  He stopped at five paces, seeing her nervous guards and knowing she didn't have a weapon, which the ceremony proscribed. “Be this … uh, good time politic talk, Tiger Lady?”

  “Not the most opportune moment, Lord Elk, no.” The joy left her voice.

  “Humble bandit forgive suggest, Tiger Lady, humble bandit not bother. Sword Lord handsome look, eh? You lady lucky be, eh?”

  “Yes, thank you, Lord Elk. I feel happier now than I ever have.”

  Wanting to retreat and hoping he had observed the amenities, Leaping Elk said, “Cere …uh, ritual well go hope, Tiger Lady. Please excuse, Lady, sword contest soon be, eh? Watch want.” He began to bow.

  “Look at me, Lord Elk.”

  The half-veiled command in her voice stopped him. His senses screamed that she was more dangerous than he had ever known or heard her to be.

  She turned her head a few degrees, examining his face. “I want ten paces around me cleared,” she ordered softly, imperatively. She pointed not a pace from her own seat. “A cushion for the Lord Elk, there.”

  While the guards moved people away, not once did she avert her gaze. Nor did he. When the guards had erected a respectful barrier of ten paces between her and the crowd, she gestured him to take a seat.

  He bowed deeply and stepped forward. A guard stopped him.

  “Forgive me, Lord Elk, your sword,” a guard said, a hand extended.

  Without comment, he shook his head and stepped backward.

  “Apologize to the Lord Elk, immediately,” Purring Tiger ordered.

  The guard did so, then to her, bowing numerous times.

  Waving it off, Leaping Elk stepped forward and took the cushion, his sword in his hands. The guard had been perfectly correct to have asked.

  “Unseemly you without weapon be, while humble bandit sword have, eh? Humble bandit sword here put.” Leaping Elk placed the sheathed weapon between them, the edge toward himself, and smiled.

  She nodded and smiled as well, the compromise acceptable to her nervous guards. “What troubles you, Lord Elk?” she asked. Her expression was cold but her voice was full of compassion, pitched low to keep others from overhearing.

  He too spoke in a low voice. “Before trouble say, Tiger Lady, how pretty look you want tell, how proud Sword Lord look, how grateful humble bandit be.”

  “Thank you, Lord Elk.” She nodded, then raised her eyebrows.

  Leaping Elk saw the silent inquiry, and sighed. “Tiger Lady, Heir determine be. Emperor dead be, Heir still head take. Stag Bucking Lord and me, we feud many year ago stop. He not forget, Stag bandit not forget. When Heir Stag Bucking Lord head take, old feud new like. No Bandit Council to settle. Bandit Stag fourteen thousand? My bandit five hundred. Yes?”

  “I understand about the feud, Lord Elk. We all know the Lord Bucking Stag is the Heir's next target.”

  “Yes, Tiger Lady. Emperor perhaps die. Heir return castle reported.”

  “You think the Heir's on his way to assassinate Bucking Stag now?”

  “Possible, Tiger Lady. Stag Bucking camp closer my cave than humble bandit fortress be. Stag Bucking Lord die and his bandit for humble bandit come. Humble bandit without help escape doubt, eh?”

  “After the Heir takes Bucking Stag's head, his bandits will besiege your cave? The distance from your cave to the fortress is too great to provide you any measure of safety? You must be too old for this, Lord Elk,” she said, genuine caring in her voice. “Why don't you go home?”

  He looked in her eyes and found caring there too. “Because you not yet ceremony hold,” he protested. Why is she thinking the festivities might be too much for a man of my age? he wondered. Then he understood. “To brother, you mean. Humble bandit too long bandit be, Tiger Lady, cave home to me now.”

  “Wouldn't you like to retire, Lord Elk? Find a place where you can just be yourself, no one to command, no responsibilities?”

  “Wishes fishes be, we all nets cast, eh Tiger Lady?” Leaping Elk replied, shrugging. “No, humble bandit south not again go. Humble bandit not welcome in Empire be. Here home be. Humble bandit here in north die, Lady. But, Tiger Lady, father Tiger Lord once me tell, you help need, you ask. Well, Tiger Lady, humble bandit help ask.”

  “What is it you want, Lord Elk, exactly?” she asked, the warmth leaving her voice.

  “Safe place for band, Tiger Lady,” he replied immediately.

  “Sanctuary for the whole band? When did my father promise you help, eh?”

  “Sixteen year, after Empire fortress raid.”

  “Who'd know the extent of my father's debt to you, Lord Elk?”

  “Comfort Easing Medacor Lord.”

  She looked toward a guard. “Fetch the Lord Comfort.” She returned her attention to the Southerner bandit. “It's not that I doubt your word, Lord Elk. I'll happily give you sanctuary. The extent of my father's debt merely determines if I do the same for your bandits. Certain people I'll take regardless of the debt: Your mate the Lady Elk, Slithering Snake, Lumbering Elephant, your children. The rest I don't know and can't appraise. When do you need sanctuary, Lord Elk?”

  “Much grateful, Tiger Lady, you thank. Mate consult need, eh? Elk Lady caves run, when better than humble bandit know.”

  “Of course, Lord Elk. How is your mate the Lady Fawning Elk? I feel disappointed she's not with you. Is she sick or something?”

  “Elk Lady not well, yes,” he replied, not wanting to reveal the real reason his mate had declined to come.

  “Sorry to hear that, Lord Elk. I hope she's better soon. Please convey to her my blessing, eh? When I decide how many members of your band I'll induct, I'll send word of my decision with our mutual friend the Lord Snake. After you join the Tiger Raiders, Lord Elk, I'll want your messages to your brother the Lord Emperor Jaguar to stop.”

  Her words were icicles in his bowels. Involuntarily, he looked around for the tiger, from whom he gleaned most of his information.

  “The animal is doing reconnaissance up north, Lord Elk,” she said.

  Leaping Elk knew he had squandered the opportunity to deny that the tiger was his spy, guessing that she had only been speculating. The fate of Empires might depend on my continuing to transmit the tiger's information! Leaping Elk thought. “Jaguar Emperor Lord humble bandit many truth tell, ear and eye many place have, Tiger Lady.”

  “Eh? So what,” she said bluntly.

  “So Emperor Lord you help may. Humble bandit ambassador be, eh? Ambassador, hostage, spy, no different, eh?”

  “He hates you and wants you dead!”

  “Ah, no, Tiger Lady, hate fake. Brother love, truly, Tiger Lady.”

  Purring Tiger frowned. “Who can confirm this?”

  “Snake Slithering Lord, Tiger Lady.”

  “So you want to maintain contact with your brother, acting as a spy for him but also as a conduit of information to me. Well, Lord Elk, that's quite a proposal. Tell me a secret that might help me.”

  “Jaguar Emperor say, you and Water Matriarch Lady sister be.”

  “That's a lie!” she snarled, her hand groping for a sword not there. “How dare you impugn my paternity!” she nearly screamed.

  Swords sang from scabbards ten paces away, the guards ready to kill.

  “Tig
er Lady messenger kill because message not like?” Leaping Elk said, staring at the woman fearlessly.

  “Should I spare your life so you can tell me more lies? Guards, take this man's head!”

  “What's the meaning of this!” Easing Comfort pushed past a guard. “Put away your swords!” The medacor looked at Purring Tiger and Leaping Elk. “Lady Tiger, what could the Lord Elk gain by telling you lies? We both know he's an honorable man!” The medacor stepped right up to her, looking down at her as a parent might a misbehaving child. “Your father was a patient man. The Lord Tiger did very little that he regretted later. Ask yourself what he would do, Lady Tiger.” He turned and scowled at the guards who hadn't yet sheathed their swords, waiting for Purring Tiger's command to do so.

  One guard suddenly bent and vomited. The others acquiesced under Easing Comfort's glare. Leaping Elk knew that the medacor was as capable of making them sick as well.

  He turned back to Purring Tiger and bowed. “Forgive me my presumptuous behavior, Lady.”

  “I'll accept your apology this time, Lord Comfort,” she said, then turned to Leaping Elk. “I'll consider your proposal, Lord Elk. Thank you, for honoring us with your presence at our ceremony.”

  Grateful for the dismissal, Leaping Elk bowed. “You thank, Tiger Lady.” Picking up his sword, he stood and backed away. At ten paces he secured it to his side and bowed again, then strode off, his two guards behind him.

  The green of tree and blue of sky looked especially vivid. The smells on the wind and the singing of birds were pleasing to his senses. Leaping Elk realized how close he had come to joining the Infinite. Every deliverance from death seemed to heighten his perceptions.

  Wandering without destination, Leaping Elk found himself at the dueling rings, where seven swordfights were underway.

  “Lord Elk,” said a bandit whom he didn't know, “would you like to compete? It'd be an honor if you'd disarm me, Lord. I'm Telling Lie.”

  “You thank, Lie Telling Lord,” Leaping Elk said, appraising the man's physique as the two of them moved toward an empty ring. Suddenly, a hand on his shoulder spun Leaping Elk around.

  Seeking Sword looked at Telling Lie, keeping his hand on the Southerner's shoulder. “I'll have no killing on this day of days, eh?”

  Frowning, Telling Lie glanced toward the alder where Purring Tiger was. “What are you talking about, Lord Sword?”

  Seeking Sword smiled at the glance. “I'm hereby countermanding your orders, Lord. Enjoy yourself today. The Infinite will take care of tomorrow. Begone!” Not acknowledging the obeisance, the Bandit watched as Telling Lie bowed deeply and moved off.

  “Sword Lord, Infinite with you be. Tiger Lady not please be, eh?”

  Seeking Sword laughed. “No, she isn't, Lord Elk. Personally, I don't mind if you spy; I only want to know the content of what you send south. She wants the southward flow of information to stop. She doesn't see any advantage in Snarling Jaguar's knowing the details of her life—as if they interested him at all.” Seeking Sword laughed again. “I'll talk with her later. I won't have her killing the man I consider as much a father as my father.”

  “Sword Lord humble bandit honor. Not deserve.”

  “Bah!” he said softly. “I'd wager she was secretly grateful Easing Comfort reminded her she could always have you killed later. In such a way as to avoid reprisals. Her father would have done the same. You must have put something really substantial up her back passage, eh?”

  Leaping Elk guffawed. He spat an imprecation in the language of the south and cast a baleful look in the direction of the alder. Feeling better, he said, “Humble bandit secret her no more tell, Sword Lord. Now humble bandit secret you only tell, eh?”

  “It would please me if you'd honor me with your confidences, Lord Elk.” The Bandit then looked at the ground, a shadow upon him. “I need you to share a particular confidence with me. The Empire claims that Lofty Lion tried to assassinate Flying Arrow, that they've captured the former Emperor. Slithering Snake tells me that the image is, uh …” He looked directly at the Southerner. “Was my father Lofty Lion?”

  Leaping Elk met the young man's gaze and nodded. “Yes, Sword Lord, your father Lion Lofty was. Year many ago, was.”

  “You have no doubt of that, Lord?”

  “Sword Lord, none. Humble bandit your father Lion Lofty was knows.”

  Seeking Sword nodded, tears twinkling in his eye. “Thank you, Lord Elk, thank you. Listen, if it wouldn't be too much of an inconvenience, I have a small problem you might help me with. As my father's been, uh, detained, I have no one to patronize me for the ceremony this evening. The custom calls for the father or patriarch to present the betrothed male. I have neither. It would honor me if you, Lord Leaping Elk, would consent to play the father for me. Infinite knows, you've certainly earned it.”

  “Eh? Humble bandit then help, now help, always help. Small matter. Grateful for offer feel. Most honor accept, my friend, my son.”

  The Bandit and the foreigner shared a smile and bowed as friends.

  Impulsively, Leaping Elk hugged him.

  Chapter 25

  A pyrathon of the pure-heat variety, Scratching Wolf had a talent more destructive than pyrathons of fire and light. Every erg he generated infused the object or person without loss to light. Most people, as long as they didn't deplete their psychic reserves, used their talents at whatever rate they chose. Scratching Wolf, though, had a peculiar condition that no psychological Wizard could cure. His reserves had a minor malfunction. When they reached capacity, his skin developed a rash that itched like the Infinite. The inflammations might appear anywhere on his body.

  Having this slight aberration in his psychic reserves, the General found it necessary to use his pyrokinesis periodically, merely to prevent his reserves from filling completely. If he didn't use his primary talent and let his psychic reserves reach full capacity, his skin broke out with a terrible rash, which looked hideous and itched worse than it looked. It was a minor inconvenience most of the time. As long as Scratching Wolf used his talent regularly, his skin remained unblemished.

  On one occasion, when the forces of the Southern Empire had captured and imprisoned him, the aberration had nearly killed him. They had dampered his cell, and in less than a week he was near death from rash. Before the rash became fatal, the Eastern Empire had repatriated him in an exchange of prisoners. Conceivably, Scratching Wolf's skin could kill him if he didn't or couldn't use his pyrokinesis.—Medical Mysteries, by the Imperial Medacor Healing Hand.

  * * *

  “Your father's near death and you want to hunt bandits?”

  Calmly, Flaming Arrow looked over his shoulder at Scratching Wolf and nodded. He returned his attention to the street outside, which he surveilled through a crack in the curtain.

  “I couldn't dissuade him, Lord General,” Probing Gaze said. “Perhaps you can.”

  The three men were inside a modest house in the southeastern quadrant of Burrow, a house readily accessible from either the north-south road that went to Emparia Castle, or the east-west road that connected Cove and Nexus. Outside, the evening breeze kicked up the dust on the nearly empty street.

  Scratching Wolf frowned. That the Heir would even think of fulfilling his manhood ritual requirements while his father lay dying seemed to indicate he had no respect at all for the Emperor. Perhaps it's simply good strategy, the General thought, scratching his cheek, suspecting the latter. “Why should I even try, eh Lord Gaze? The Lord Heir decided long ago to die this foolish way.”

  Flaming Arrow smiled, turned away from the window and stepped to the table where the other two men were sitting. With a last glance toward Emparia Castle, he turned his attention to the map on the table. Probing Gaze rose to get them some coffee from the kitchen.

  “Glad to see you're at least worried, Lord Heir.” Scratching Wolf said. “If you won't change your mind, at least explain why you want to take heads while your father's ill.”

  Eight hours before, when
Flaming Arrow had left Emparia Castle, the Emperor's condition had been the same as after Aged Oak's call for help: Comatose. The Heir tried not to think about it.

  “The Lord Emperor is dying, I've supposedly returned to Emparia Castle, Imperial Warriors have retreated across the border, and the Tiger Raiders have fearlessly staged a full-blown mating ceremony. If you were Bucking Stag, would you expect me?” The answer obvious, he continued. “Besides, it's important that I complete my ritual before …” He sighed. “Lord Wolf, how much travel time between Stag Raiders and the Gale Raiders?”

  Bucking Stag and Howling Gale were the two men whom Flaming Arrow planned to assassinate next. Both bandits commanded about fourteen thousand bandits each.

  “About twelve hours, Lord,” Scratching Wolf said, not scratching.

  “I'll travel the distance in ten hours,” Flaming Arrow said. “Can you have the necessary men waiting to strike?”

  “Eh? I missed something, Lord Heir.” The General accepted a cup from Probing Gaze.

  “After I take Bucking Stag's head, I'm going to travel directly to Howling Gale's camp and take his head. You'll have to position two armies and orchestrate two attacks, with only ten hours between the assaults, Lord Wolf. Lord Gaze, how much time from here to Bucking Stag's camp?”

  “Approximately nine hours travel, Lord Heir.”

  “Lord Wolf, you have fifteen hours to prepare.”

  “Impossible! Lord Heir, there's not a chance I—”

  “Listen, Lord Wolf,” Flaming Arrow interrupted, leaning toward the General. “This has to be done fast. I've asked the Lord Oak to give me sixteen hours before he publicizes any favorable change in the Lord Emperor's condition. I've used eight of those hours getting here. I have twenty-four hours to take these two heads, eh? In addition, at oh nine hundred hours tomorrow morning, the Lord Oak will publicize the results of a conference he and I had that morning, during which we discussed whether I should take the reins of the Empire from my comatose father. Furthermore, he'll announce that I've petitioned for the waiver of my remaining requirements. Both announcements are merely stratagems to make the bandits think I'm at Emparia Castle. At the time of the announcements, I hope to be infiltrating the camp of Bucking Stag, and shortly thereafter, leaving for the camp of Howling Gale.”