“Unless the interior layout of this pile is utterly different from every palace I’ve ever been in, there should be some kind of central chamber or meeting place.” Simna gestured forward. Beyond the storeroom, feeble but adequate light filtered in through distant windows and ports, allowing them to advance with greater confidence. Once again Ehomba took the lead.
Sounds drifted down to them from the upper reaches of the fortress, but they were isolated and few. This late at night and this early in the morning, few denizens of the castle were stirring. Guards patrolled the main gates and outer wall, not the interior living quarters. Ehomba was concerned about the possibility of encountering free-roaming dogs but, oddly, none were about. Despite his interminable curiosity it was, however, a problem to which he could at the moment devote but little thought.
“Here, this way.” Advancing, the herdsman gestured for the others to follow him to the left. Proceeding silently through a travertine-trimmed archway, they found themselves in the high-ceilinged, central chamber whose existence Simna had earlier propounded.
It was utterly silent. Moonlight entered through stained-glass windows of unsettling motif high above the floor. The swordsman was excited to discover that the floor was paved not with slabs of granite or even marble, but with semiprecious stone such as rhodochrosite and lapis, agate and onyx. There was treasure here; ample treasure. He could smell it.
“Now all we have to do is find the room where the Visioness is held,” Ehomba whispered. “We will take a servant prisoner and seek the information from him.” His voice was low and tight with expectancy. “Simna and I have dealt with guards before. With luck, we will be able to spirit her out of the castle and back along the route we used to enter. By daybreak we will be away from the city and safely in among the mountains.”
“Hoy, that sounds grand, bruther. But what about the treasure?” Deeply concerned with other matters, Simna hovered close to his lanky companion.
“The Visioness first,” Ehomba reminded him tautly. “When we have her, then we will discuss the matter of treasure. Better to worry now about guards, and whether this Hymneth the Possessed sleeps near at hand to the one called Themaryl.”
“Tonight, he does not sleep!” The booming voice was shockingly loud and immediate.
Illumination flooded the audience chamber as the fifty fine lamps that lined the enclosing walls and hung from the high ceiling came simultaneously to life, filling the imposing room with light. Whirling as one, the four travelers found themselves staring at the far end of the chamber. There was a throne there, raised up on a high but modest dais. Seated on the throne was a towering, striking figure clad from head to foot in burnished armor of florid design and elegant execution. Bejeweled floor lamps of solid malachite blazed on either side of the chiseled seat of state, their light glimmering off the gold and azure armor.
From beneath a helmet of alloyed red and green gold, eyes blazed with no less intensity than the plethora of dazzling lamps. One mailed arm was upraised. As it lowered slightly, so did the light of the fifty lamps, reducing the blinding brilliance that flushed the chamber to a more tolerable level. Straight-backed and steely-eyed, white of hair and lean of muscle, a venerable soldier-sage stood to the left of the throne and slightly to its rear. Near the foot of the splendid dais fluttered two ominous, independently hovering puffs of malevolent black vapor.
The intruders scanned entrances and alcoves, but the rest of the chamber was deserted. There were no concealed guards, no approaching platoons of heavily armored soldiers, no murderous dogs snarling and snapping madly at the ends of handlers’ chains. Only the imposing figure seated on the dais, and the single venerable attendant.
Simna’s hand drifted away from his sword. The black litah rose slowly from his crouch. Around them, saturated wicks flickered and sputtered softly, fed by finely sieved and blended oils. Ehomba searched the helmet-shrouded eyes of the towering figure seated on the throne, and those same deep-set, intelligent eyes gazed unblinkingly back.
“‘A master of the necromantic arts,’ the Worm said. ‘A questioner of all that is unanswered.’” Leaning forward slightly on the dais, Hymneth the Possessed, Lord of Ehl-Larimar and Supreme Ruler of the central Aurreal coast all the way from the Wall of Motops to the frozen northlands, leaned his chin on his fist as he considered the taller of the two humans standing before him. “Have you really come from all the way across the Semordria, the eastern ocean?”
It took Simna a moment to find his voice. Swallowing hard but uncowed, he boldly took a step forward. “Not only from across the Semordria, but from far to the south as well.”
The armored specter ignored the swordsman. For Hymneth, Simna ibn Sind did not exist. Nor, except as transitory curiosities, did Hunkapa Aub or the black litah. He had words only for the tall, slim, spear-wielding figure clad in simple shirt and kilt who met his gaze without flinching.
“I must say that you don’t look the part.” After holding the stare for another long, thoughtful moment, the Possessed sighed and sat back on his throne, dropping his arms to the sculpted dragon-headed rests. “After all this waiting, it’s something of a disappointment. However, when it comes to reading tomorrows, even the Worm is not omnipotent.”
“By Gosthenhark, we’re due some respect here for what we’ve done!” Insults Simna could deal with, but he could not and would not be ignored. “This is my friend the Naumkib Etjole Ehomba, who comes from a land so far to the east and south you cannot conceive of the distance.”
“Can’t I?” Already, Hymneth was sounding bored.
“He is a wizard of inestimable wisdom and power, controlling forces you cannot hope to defeat.” Straightening proudly, the swordsman touched a thumb to his chest. “I am Simna ibn Sind, virtuoso of blades and sixth-degree adept in the warrior arts of my homeland. We have not come all this way, defeating dangers and overcoming obstacles beyond your imagining, to be treated with contempt. We mean to have from you the Visioness Themaryl of Laconda, unwillingly abducted from her family and home, and return her to her people.” He took a step back and then added hastily, “And whatever treasure of yours we can carry off with us as well.”
Hymneth the Possessed nodded slowly, his posture and attitude indicative of a weary patience. The senior soldier at his side remained standing at attention, having moved not a muscle or, insofar as Ehomba could tell, an eye, during the entire confrontation. As for the amorphous blobs of black effluvium, Ehomba knew what they were.
“Well spoken,” the Lord of Ehl-Larimar deigned to comment. “While I generally dislike volubility in my soldiers, you exhibit the kind of blind and dumb courage that can sometimes prove valuable. I might have use for you.” Before a defiant Simna could reply, Hymneth returned his attention to the silently watching Ehomba.
“When first I was warned of your coming, I was concerned. Not afraid, mind, or worried, but concerned. It is a foolish man who is not concerned with the unknown. This consideration troubled my thoughts, and became so persistent as to unsettle my sleep. Then, things changed. Or rather, something of great importance changed. So much so that it no longer became a matter of interest to me whether you reached Ehl-Larimar or not.” Behind the helmet there surfaced the suggestion of a smile.
“This came about because I became immune to anything you could do. Believe me, when the change took place it was a revelation as welcome as it was surprising.” He leaned his head slightly to one side. “I look forward with complete indifference to whatever you may choose to do next.”
Simna whispered tersely to his laconic friend. “He’s bluffing. No matter how powerful he is, he knows nothing of our strengths or powers. Therefore he can’t be as disinterested as he says.” When Ehomba did not comment, the swordsman decided to go on the offensive. Raising his voice, he challenged the armored figure slumping on the throne.
“If you think you can intimidate us with words, then you’ve no idea of what we’ve gone through in the getting here.” His fingers slid meaningful
ly to the hilt of his sword. “It doesn’t matter if you’re alone except for that old menial and a couple of black puffballs, or if your whole army is waiting just outside this room. We demand that the Visioness Themaryl be brought before us—and that’s just for a start.”
The helmeted skull nodded slowly. “As you will see, I can be quite an agreeable fellow.” Turning slightly to his right, he gestured toward the shadows. “There is no need to send for her. She’s right here.”
From out of the darkness strode the abducted enchantress of far-distant Laconda. Trailing pale blue chiffon and silk, her flowing tresses bound up in a snood of gold wire set with sapphires and tourmalines, she seemed to glide across the floor toward the dais. Having been smitten with her aspect in a vision, Simna was no less overwhelmed by her loveliness in person. Though he had known many comely women, they were as thistles compared to the radiant rose that now stood before him.
Commanded to appear, he expected her to halt well short of the throne. She did not. As he searched for hidden chains or restraints, she mounted the dais until she was standing directly alongside the throne itself. Reaching out, she placed one hand on the metal-clad shoulder of Hymneth the Possessed. The swordsman hunted in vain for evidence of handcuffs or leg shackles.
And then she smiled.
Simna’s lower jaw dropped. Beside him, Ehomba said nothing. Hunkapa Aub and Ahlitah waited behind the two men, confused and uncertain, not knowing how to react or what to do next.
To say that Hymneth was enjoying the effect the Visioness’s actions had on his visitors was to understate the delight he hardly showed. “As I told you, something of a transformation has taken place here in Ehl-Larimar.” Without taking his eyes from the stunned intruders, he murmured encouragingly to the woman standing by his side. “Tell them—my dear.”
As it had been in the vision, her voice was molten gold, each syllable a chord in an infinite celestial cantata. “I am sorry if you have gone to much trouble. It is true that when I was abducted by Hymneth I was overflowing with hatred for him and all that he might stand for. Brave men and women died on my behalf, trying to liberate me. For that I am now and forever will be sorry. At the time and for many months thereafter I grieved for them even as I hoped another might come who would deliver me.
“Imprisoned here, a ‘guest’ who was not permitted to leave, I was well treated. I kept my own counsel, and nursed my anger and loathing, until eventually it became a thing separate and apart from me. Once that happened, I was able to stand back from it and consider more dispassionately my surroundings. Only then was I able to bring myself even to speak civilly with my captor. Only then did I come to appreciate his profound qualities.”
“Profound qual—“ Simna whirled on Ehomba. “Bruther, why don’t you say something? Are you hearing this?”
Glancing down, the herdsman nodded. “I am hearing it, friend Simna.”
Drawing herself up to her full height, the Visioness declaimed clearly. “I have chosen to remain here of my own free will. As his amenable consort, Hymneth has offered me the co-regency of Ehl-Larimar. I have accepted. I regret any personal inconvenience this may have caused you, but you may console yourselves with the knowledge that you are free to remain or depart, as you see fit. You will not be harmed.”
Simna could not believe what he was hearing. “He’s drugged her! Or she’s been ensorcelled! She’s not free to voice her own mind. Break the hex, Etjole! Free her from this corrupting stupor so that she can speak the truth!”
The herdsman leaned slightly on his spear. “No, Simna. I do not think she is suffering under a spell. I have been watching her posture, her lips, her eyes. She is herself and none other. The words she speaks are hers, and come from the heart as well as the mind. She truly means to remain here.”
“Then—everything we’ve gone through; the battles we’ve fought, the dangers we’ve overcome, the lands and towns and armies and seas we’ve struggled to pass at the repeated risk of our very lives, it’s all been for nothing? For nothing?” When again his friend did not reply, the swordsman sat down heavily on the exquisite, highly polished gemstone floor. And then he began to laugh.
His laughter grew louder, and wilder, echoing through the length and breadth of the great hall. He began to rock back and forth, both arms wrapped around his stomach as the laughter spilled out of him in long, rolling waves. Only when he had come close to laughing himself insensate did the calmly foreboding voice from the throne speak again.
“Unlike the beauteous Themaryl, I hardly ever feel sorry for anyone. People make the lives they live. I regret to admit that in certain quarters of my kingdom I am not considered a compassionate ruler. But tonight, though I would like to laugh with you, mercenary, I find that I cannot. I can only—feel sorry for you.” He turned back to the silently staring Ehomba. “So you see, necromancer from across the Semordria, if such it is that you are, you are defeated before you can begin. That which you came to fight for no longer exists. Your reason and rationale have evaporated, like smoke.” Steel-clad fingers reached out to cover the back of the Visioness Themaryl’s perfect hand.
“Ordinarily, I would not be so generous to those who slink uninvited into my home, but my consort has spoken. You are free to leave, or stay, or do whatever you want. It is of no import to me. Enjoy the city if you like. Ehl-Larimar has much to offer the tired traveler.” He nodded in the direction of the silent old soldier. “If you wish, Peregriff will find lodging for you tonight within the castle. Since I have no reason to deal with you as enemies, I suppose I might as well treat you as guests. Tomorrow you may dine with me. And with my incomparable, compliant consort.” Turning his hand, he lifted hers up in his, bent forward, and kissed it. Seeing this was enough to set Simna ibn Sind to laughing uncontrollably all over again.
“No.”
The seated swordsman’s hysteria halted in mid-laugh. To the left of the throne, the impressive white eyebrows of General Peregriff narrowed ever so slightly. At the foot of the dais, tiny red eyes began to emerge and take shape within the cryptic depths of the cancerous black vapors.
Having started to rise from his throne, Hymneth the Possessed paused and peered across the reflective, lamplit floor. His voice was composed, even—but just the slightest bit perplexed.
“What did you say?”
“I said, no.” For the first time since the lamps had burst to life in the regal audience chamber, it was Etjole Ehomba who stepped forward. “We cannot avail ourselves of your hospitality, or that of your kingdom.” Lowering the tip of his spear, he pointed slightly to his left. “The Visioness Themaryl is coming with us.”
Hymneth’s voice grew quietly, dangerously frosty. “I am afraid I do not understand. She does not wish to go with you. She does not wish to return to Laconda or the life she knew there. She wishes to stay here with me. Of her own free will. You yourself acknowledged as much only moments ago.”
The herdsman nodded. He had come a long way and was very tired, as if he had spent days chasing runaway animals through the hills and gullies back of the village. “When I first set out on this journey, not knowing how or when it would end or where it would take me, I did so because I had made a vow. A promise to a dying man who called himself Tarin Beckwith, of Laconda North. He made me swear not to rest until I returned the Visioness Themaryl to her home and family. This oath I reluctantly made. I have traveled far and at great expense of effort to fulfill that obligation. I intend to do so.”
The wide, helmeted head was shaking slowly from side to side. “There is reason, and then there is insanity, but the likes of this I have never had to deal with before. Do you mean to tell me that in spite of her declared wishes to remain here you intend to take her back, by force if necessary?”
Ehomba nodded stoically. His voice never changed. “By force if necessary.”
With the abruptness of a rogue wave shattering upon an unsuspecting shore, Hymneth the Possessed stood bolt upright before his throne and bellowed thunderously at
the impious intruder.
“By Besune, this is worse than madness!” He was trembling with rage. “In spite of all the sleeplessness you have caused me, I offer you your life, and you demand death!” Reaching out toward the intolerable interloper, he made a cup of his extended fingers. “Since you so devoutly seek your doom, here it is, master of a doubtful magic. Here in this hand. Come and get it!”
Without a word, a grim-faced Ehomba let go of his spear. It had not yet struck the floor before he was running forward, reaching back over a shoulder to draw the sky-metal sword. A stunned Simna frantically began to scramble to his feet. Hunkapa Aub tensed, and the black litah let loose with a snarl that rattled the hanging banners high overhead. Rising to his full, dominating height before the throne, Hymneth the Possessed spread both arms wide to restrain the alerted Peregriff and shield the startled Themaryl. Then he let loose with an inarticulate howl of his own as he flung one arm forward at the tall, rangy herdsman racing toward him.
The dart that had been concealed within the sleeve of his armor struck the onrushing herdsman in his right shoulder. Without pausing, Ehomba reached up and pulled it free. Tossing it to one side, he showed no ill effects from the virulent poison it contained. Nor would he, thanks to the immunizing contents of his water bag, thoughtfully treated months ago by, as Simna was fond of saying, a long brother.
His gaze narrowing slightly, the ruler of Ehl-Larimar brought his other arm forward and uttered a word so loathsome and vile that the Visioness was compelled to clasp both hands to her ears to shut out the echo of it that lingered in the air. In response to his gesture, eyes now fully formed and ablaze, the two clouds of sooty vapor that had been hovering impatiently by his steel-booted feet ballooned to the size of black buffalo as they sped gleefully away from the dais to intercept the impudent, foolhardy human.
A Triumph of Souls Page 31