Secrets of the Stonechaser (The Law of Eight Book 1)

by Nicholas Andrews

  “Commander,” she said in a neutral tone, “I congratulate you on your successful rout and the capture of Lord Petaka Aramos Bosmick.”

  “Thank you, my lady,” Nerris said. “It does me good to see you once again.”

  “Then let us adjourn to somewhere more private, and you can brief me on the details of your success.” She called for Falares to bring her mount, and the big man frowned even harder when he saw Nerris.

  They exchanged pleasantries as they rode through the city, children running alongside their horses. Qabala waved to them and they ran off, giggling to one another. The gates of the Aeternica stood open, and Nerris entered the red-brick castle with far less effort than the last time he had been here. They dismounted in the bailey, and Master Kord and his men accompanied them to the royal keep. The stone stairs and hallways were familiar to Nerris, though they looked more colorful in broad daylight.

  Two guards opened the door to the same bedchamber where King Lahnen had died. The furniture had been rearranged, and the bed replaced entirely by a massive four-poster with white curtains. When the door shut, Qabala leapt into Nerris’s arms and planted a quick succession of kisses on his lips.

  “I’ve never been so frightened,” she told him. “I’m glad Meznas’s people reached you in time. I hear you tried to relieve Colonel Quin during the battle yourself. What madness possessed you?”

  “He needed me,” Nerris said. “Would you have me leave all my men to die?”

  “Yes,” Qabala said. “You should have spurred your horse east and not stopped until you were here in my arms.”

  “Qabala, you’re being irrational.”

  Qabala disengaged herself from his arms. “I know you think me cruel and sadistic at times. But flowery little girls don’t win wars, Nerris.”

  “Then what was that business out in the square?” he asked.

  “My people have suffered so much on my behalf,” she said. “I’m fully aware that this war is crushing many of the lives I mean to save. I need to show them that things will be different when I am the Aeterna. That they need not fear, for I will always have food to nourish them and a sword to defend them. When the day comes where Prince Lahnel and I do battle, I would have them at my side and not at my back.”

  “And the men you hanged?”

  “Scapegoats,” she admitted. “There is no way possible to know the full extent of those who commit crimes when a city is sacked. But the people needed to see I will not permit those kinds of acts.”

  “Yet you unleashed your pet cultists against a helpless village,” Nerris said.

  “To save you,” Qabala countered. “Don’t you see, Nerris? Their Tattered Man has named me the Aeterna, at least in their minds. They will fight to the death for me. In the coming battles, I will put them right on the front line. By war’s end, no one will remember there ever was a Cult of Eversor. I’ll remove two dangers to my people with a single stroke.”

  “True men will not fight with them,” Nerris said. “They fear them. My men only tolerated them because of the help they provided. Even then, all the carnage... they brought it on. Their fervor affected my men, made them do horrible things. They even attacked me.” Absently, he felt the back of his head.

  Qabala’s hand followed his, and she stroked the great knot in his scalp. “Oh, my poor Nerris. I swear to you, those who did this will be found and burned—”

  “No,” Nerris said. “Don’t you understand, Qabala? The brutality has to stop somewhere.”

  Qabala kissed him on the cheek. “I wish it could, my love. I’ve never had such a wonderful feeling as today, seeing the grateful eyes of my people and hearing their laughter. But I am a ruler of a broken country. There are battles yet to be fought.”

  “And after that?” Nerris asked. “Does it end there?”

  Before Qabala could answer, a knock sounded at the door, and a sentry spoke. “A man named Rade is here to see you, my Eternal, as well as Commander Nerris. He is in the sitting room.”

  “Rade?” Qabala asked.

  “He was with me when I assassinated King Lahnen,” Nerris reminded her. “You rewarded him with lands.”

  “Ah, yes.”

  They went down the hall to the solar, where Rade sat on a divan. He stood and bowed to Qabala as they entered the room. “My Eternal,” he said.

  “At ease,” she said. “Why do you wish to see me, Lord Rade? Nerris was about to... brief me.”

  “To be sure, nothing is brief where the both of you are concerned,” Rade said with a twinkle in his eye, “but this can’t wait. I understand as soon as we arrived you wished to coronate yourself as queen and dip your head in the Aristian Flames.”

  “Flames?” Nerris asked.

  “It’s how one is consecrated Aeterna,” Qabala said.

  “But first you need a godstone,” Rade said. “Have you found one, by any chance?”

  “No.” Qabala looked away. “I was led to believe there was one here in the crypts of the Aeternica, hidden in the tomb of Yahd himself. But we found nothing. I will have to seek a godstone elsewhere.”

  Rade’s eyes twinkled again. “Perhaps not, my Eternal. Yahd held a shard of a godstone, this is true, but it lost its power. There are two true godstones, and the one the shard came from was not buried in that crypt. Otherwise, King Lahnen would have found it out and claimed it for himself.”

  Qabala gave him a sharp look. “And how would you know of such things?”

  Rade drew himself up. “I may have been called Rade these past thirty years, but I was born under a different name. My name is Yorne Radenos Regnak, and I was the cousin of Lord Gorran Regnak. When I was fifteen, I was taken to the University of Lhan Del and trained to become a Dume-General. For many years, I served and advised King Yahd Aeternus, the Unifier, until the day he set his eyes eastward. And now I would serve and advise you, my Eternal, until I cease to draw breath.”

  As he saluted, Nerris and Qabala stood rooted on the spot, silent. Finally, Qabala spoke. “There is a tale about a man named Dume Yorne, called the Lost Dume. He disappeared at the onset of the Enslavement War.”

  Rade nodded. “If you wish to see proof...” He lifted his tunic and pulled the side of his trousers down, and they could see a brand burned into his hip. It was a mark of sword and scroll. “Only the Dume-Generals were given this mark. I trust you saw a similar one when you burned the body of Dume Araka.”

  “Indeed I did,” Qabala said, still awestruck. “Why serve me, Dume Yorne? Why not return to the family you were sworn to?”

  “I was sworn to Yahd Aeternus, and briefly King Kolmat,” Rade said a bit sadly. “I never took a vow for any of their successors. But my purpose is a higher one, and it has led me to you.”

  “I must find seven men or women to take up the mantle of Dume-General,” Qabala said. “I would be honored if you would be among the first, your Constancy.”

  She extended her hand, and Rade knelt before kissing her fingers. “My Eternal. With your permission, I would escort you back down to the crypts. It is there, hidden behind a secret wall, that I placed the godstone Fatexion with my own hands, near thirty years ago.”

  Qabala shook with excitement. “Very well, your Constancy. Make your preparations and I will do the same. Nerris, come.”

  “I would have a word alone with this, er, Yorne,” Nerris said, never taking his gaze from the graybeard.

  She nodded. “You two must have much to talk about. I will be in my chambers.”

  Qabala exited, and Nerris rounded on the old man as soon as the door shut. “What are you playing at, Rade?” he asked. “Are you really the Lost Dume?”

  “I am sorry for never telling you my real name, Nerris,” Rade said. “I know you must be wroth with me.”

  “Wroth doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Nerris said. “You were a Dume-General. Yet you say you knew my family, fought alongside them—”

  “It’s a long and complicated story, and not one for the telling just now,” Rade said
. “But I swear to you, that was the truth.”

  “You served Yahd the Enslaver!”

  Rade nodded. “Until the day I met Angelica. Though I never took up arms against Yahd or my fellow Dume-Generals, I quit Yagolhan for a quest, left behind everything I ever knew and everyone I cared about. I thought it fulfilled when it led me to your father, but I see now it was you I was meant to find.”

  “What are you talking about?” Nerris asked.

  “This will wait until after I present Qabala with the Fatexion,” Rade said.

  “So you would enable her to be a monster after all?”

  “No,” Rade said. “This must happen, to avert disasters to come. Nerris, have you ever read the prophecies of the faeries?”

  “You mean the Stonechaser Prophecy? I chanced upon a copy once when I was at Gauntlet,” Nerris said. “Indecipherable gibberish, even if you believe in that sort of thing.”

  Rade grunted. “I see you’re still not ready to open your mind. Come down to the crypts with us. It may help you understand.”

  Rade placed a gentle hand at the small of Nerris’s back and led him from the room. A variety of emotions swirled within Nerris at once. Anger, curiosity, even a little fear. He was not sure what to expect down in the crypt of the Y’Ghan family, but he was sure he was not going to stay behind on this adventure, even if faced with the ghost of the Enslaver himself.

  Chapter Nine

  QABALA STOOD WITH her arms up as Meeka slid a silken shift over her head. The cloth fit tight over her taut body, and she adjusted it to a more comfortable position. She would need a tight fit, she mused, to keep the butterflies in her stomach from flying away. In an hour’s time, she would dip her head in Aristian Flames, and emerge as the Great Aeterna, speaker of the gods, and rightful ruler of all lands she deemed to touch.

  “But you know the gods are no longer here,” the presence in her mind told her. “They fled this world long ago. Only you remain to right this world.”

  She had heard that voice in her mind ever since childhood. It had grown more prominent ever since she took Palehorse. He sometimes appeared in her mind’s eye as a man with pallid skin and dried, brittle hair. Every color about him, including his clothing, was a murky gray, a dead, neutral hue. Except for his hands, which were the purest white she had ever seen. Because of that she had called him the Pale One.

  But his robe’s tattered condition finally made the connection for her. This was the same Tattered Man the Cult of Eversor made their sacrifices to, she was sure of it now. But what interest did he have in who ruled over Yagolhan and the rest of Tormalia?

  No matter. The Pale One had always shown her kindness. With his help she rose above the chains her foster father imposed on her body and soul. With his help, she had become a scholar, a warrior, a political dissenter, and finally, a leader. And with his help, she would make the world anew.

  Qabala glanced at herself in the mirror. Clad in only a shift, she looked too plain for her liking. She wore no jewelry, and nothing to enhance her face or lips. She remained barefoot. Even Meeka looked more impressive at the moment. But Rade had said it was traditional for the new Aeterna to show humility before receiving the blessing of the godstone.

  The sudden appearance of Yorne Radenos Regnak had been unexpected, but welcome. Though he had left Yagolhan before the Enslavement War, his name still commanded respect. His training had begun after Yahd’s reunification of the kingdom, and he had far outstripped his peers in matters of intellect and diplomacy. On the battlefield, it was said he rivaled even Zaon Skovil, a fellow Dume-General whom he considered a brother.

  Rade had been evasive about reasons for hiding the godstone Fatexion in Yahd’s tomb, other than the simple fact that it kept his successors from getting their hands on it. She had searched the tomb herself upon taking the Aeternica, but had turned up nothing.

  With Rade, Falares, and Nerris in tow, she had once again descended to the lower levels of the Aeternica, below even the dungeons and the Fury Pit, a torture chamber King Lahnen had been fond of using on his enemies. Rade led them under all that, and into the crypt of the Y’Ghan family.

  A great stone door stood as barrier to Yahd the Unifier’s tomb. It took both Nerris and Falares to open it enough to allow them access. Inside was an opulent room, filled with personal affects and the weapons of Yahd himself. A stone sarcophagus was embedded on the back wall. Rade gave his torch to Nerris and pried the lid off.

  “We’ve already searched his body,” Qabala said a bit impatiently.

  “It was not the body you should have searched,” Rade said, gripping the bones within and hauling outward. The skeleton fell to the floor, its bones scattering amongst their feet.

  Falares gasped. “You would defile an Aeternus’s corpse, old man?”

  “That isn’t Yahd,” Rade said, indicating the skeleton. “I don’t know what poor sod they got to stand in for him, but my Eternal never would have wanted to spend his forever days lying inside a box. Nerris, with me, please.”

  Nerris moved to assist the old man, who pressed his body into the back of the sarcophagus. Nerris joined him in his efforts, and stone creaked and scraped. After some strain, the interior slab of Yahd’s resting place toppled forward, revealing a hidden threshold. The slab disappeared into blackness, but she heard it hit stone beyond, and slide downward.

  Qabala held the torch overhead and saw stone steps had been hewn into the ground, which led even further into darkness. “Amazing. All right, Nerris, you’re the treasure hunter. What now?”

  “Let me lead the way,” he said. “There may be traps.” He glanced at Rade.

  “I assure you I did not place anything dangerous within,” he said. “However, I was not the one who fashioned this space. There may still be something there yet.”

  “Right, you two make sure it’s safe,” Qabala said. “Falares—”

  “Yes, my Eternal?” The big man snapped to attention.

  “Hold my torch.”

  Her bodyguard grunted in disappointment and took the torch from her. One by one, they climbed into the sarcophagus and descended even further into the catacombs. At the bottom of the stairs, Nerris and Rade went to sconces set against the wall and lit the torches contained there, and orange light filled the entire room. At the end of the long hall sat another dais, this one with a throne atop it. On the throne sat another skeleton, this one wearing the crown of a King of Yagolhan, its black eye sockets seeming to watch their every move. A trick of the light, most like.

  As Qabala approached, a different colored light sprang forth. In the lap of the Unifier rested a rock the size of a man’s fist. It emitted a blackish-purple light, and she felt the stone’s power reverberate in her very soul.

  “Behold, the godstone Fatexion,” Rade said, “known more commonly as the Doom Rock.”

  A rattling noise distracted her, and she turned toward the source. Had there been a trap after all? Yet it seemed Nerris was the one rattling, and he appeared as surprised as she did. He looked at his side, where his blade, Noruken, vibrated within its scabbard.

  “What—” Nerris began.

  “Pay it no mind,” Rade said. “The Doom Rock can have that effect on magical blades.”

  “My blade isn’t magical,” Nerris said, “just old.”

  Rade winked. “Some would say old is another word for magic. At least, that’s how the ladies I’ve known describe me.”

  Qabala turned back toward the Doom Rock, which glowed brighter as she came closer. Faint sounds emitted from it, as well. Cries, wails, and the occasional scraping sound of splintering stone. It was almost hypnotic. She reached out a hand, but Rade rushed forward and stopped her.

  “Not yet, my Eternal. Without the proper preparations, these stones can be dangerous to hold. It would not do to have you destroy something you may grieve to remember later.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as the city of Palehorse, for example.” Rade reached out and grasped the stone in both ha
nds. The outpour of its glow intensified, but Rade tensed as if bracing himself against a boulder.

  “Can you hold it?” Nerris asked.

  “I’ve held it before,” Rade said. “I know what it’s capable of doing and can handle it for short periods of time. Still, it’s best we quit this place. I would cleanse my hands as soon as possible. I didn’t dirty them on the tomb, but they reek of a different filth at the moment.”

  After they returned to the Aeternica, Qabala had declared her coronation ceremony would be three days hence, and her men struggled to make the proper arrangements in time. Finally, the day had come and she spent this last hour making herself as plain as possible. Rade had said the godstone would be easier to control with a humble heart. If someone with base and selfish desires touched it, the stone would feed off them, and terrible things could happen.

  A sharp sting in her skull jolted her. “Ouch!” she cried, as Meeka pulled a hairpin away. Her hair had grown a bit over the past few weeks, and the slave girl had been trying to pin it behind her head. Qabala smacked her, and Meeka turned her head, crying out in shock. “Stupid girl. I need to concentrate, and you keep poking me.”

  “I am sorry, my Eternal,” Meeka said, her eyes downcast.

  “Leave my hair alone,” Qabala said. “I am supposed to have no adornment.”

  A short time later, Rade knocked on her door to let her know it was time. Qabala told Meeka to stay in her room and left the royal chambers, making her way toward the great hall. Rade and Falares flanked her steps, their boots sounding heavy against the stone floors. Qabala’s own feet made the barest of noises, yet in combination with her heartbeat, she could feel it echoing off the walls of the Aeternica just as loud.

  Lukas Kord and Nerris each held one of the double doors open for her to enter the great hall. The setting sun shone through the long windows as she entered, bathing her path in golden light. All her officers stood off to the side of the crimson carpet leading up to the dais. Meznas and several of his cult members stood at the foot of the throne. All bowed before her, though one man seemed hesitant to do so.