earthdawn Anarya's Secret

by Tim Jones

  "Open it," he said. A key was produced. The lock, well oiled, turned silently.

  The torture equipment, the racks, the thumbscrews, had been removed, though the traces of their hasty removal were still visible. In their place was a pallet of straw and a pile of bedding. A man sat there; from his clothes and his girth, a man of substance. He turned his pale, heavy-lidded face up to look at Kendik. "Am I to be released?" he asked.

  Before Kendik could answer, the prison commander said "This man has been accused of fraud and giving short measures. He is to be tried under our laws. There is no need for your intervention, milord."

  "I was merely going to ask him what he thought of his cell," said Kendik.

  "What do I think of it? It is a cell, but at least I am hidden from the gaze of the rabble. As cells go, it will do."

  Kendik was relieved to head back up the stairs and return to the comparative sanity of the guardhouse, until he reflected that a few more steps would take him outside, where an unknown assassin lurked. As he nerved himself to take those few steps, he was distracted by a commotion to the left. "There he is! There he is!" said a young voice. "I have to talk to him!"

  Forestalling Trekaldis, who was summoning breath to decry this further breach of protocol, Kendik said "I know this boy. I will speak with him."

  The guards bought Natrass forward, and he began to gabble so quickly that Kendik, who had bent down to the boy's level, could barely follow his words.

  "There was a man—I saw him last night—I knew him from before, when the, when that magician made his head appear in the air—"

  "Slow down," said Kendik. "Slow down. No one will harm you. Tell me calmly what you know. I want to hear your story."

  He took Natrass off to one side and drew the tale out of him. It emerged that the man whom Natrass had seen as he watched from his window was the man who had attacked the widow Mecira in Pust—the man who had fomented the plot which led to the attack on the visiting Duke Kendik, and to the death of Mors.

  "And then," said Natrass, "then I saw him again!"

  "Where?"

  "It was in the square, today. I wanted to go to the palace, but then I found out you were going to talk in the square, so I went there instead, to talk to you. But I couldn't get up to the front where my brothers were, and I couldn't see over all the other people, and I was thinking my father would be cross, and maybe I should go and find him. Then I heard screams, and someone said they'd shot you, and then people were getting out of the way, and I saw the man running past."

  "Are you sure it was the same man?"

  "Well, I think so—but he had a hood—"

  "Come on, boy," said Trekaldis, hovering dangerously. "Are you sure or aren't you?"

  Kendik waved him to silence. "That's all right," he told Natrass. "You've done the very best you could. But I think your mother and father must be getting awfully worried by now. And you have to be careful: that man is extremely dangerous, and if he realizes that you've recognized him, it could put you and your family in danger. Do you understand me?"

  Natrass nodded.

  "What we need is a couple of guards who can be inconspicuous. Are any of your Falcons capable of that, Commander?"

  "Do not think we are fools, milord," Trekaldis scowled. "What do you want these men to do?"

  "Escort this boy home. Don't walk with him all the way. Let him go on his own the last street or two, but follow behind and make sure that he comes to no harm."

  Trekaldis nodded, a faint scowl still etched on his face.

  "Natrass," said Kendik, "you and your family have been of great service to me. I will not forget either your help or your friendship. You and your family are always welcome at the Palace, and I will extend whatever protection and help you may need. Go now with my thanks."

  Accompanied—but not too closely—by two guards, Natrass left for home. Then it was time for Kendik to do likewise. Atlan, who had pursued the assassin from the square, had not returned. Kendik had guards of his own, but that was no comfort. With each step he took, his skin crawled with the sensation that sudden death was waiting to pounce; but it did not, and he returned safely to the palace. Anarya was there, anxious to talk over the day's events, and by the time they had eaten and bathed together, the sharp edge had been taken off his worries. He was, when all was said and done, alive. Atlan came back late, shaking his head in answer to all enquiries, and prepared to resume his accustomed position in front of Kendik's door. Kendik expected to lie awake long and sleep poorly, but he dropped off almost before he could start worrying.

  X

  Not everyone in Borzim was sleeping. The assassin—the so-far unsuccessful assassin—was lying in a warm bed, relaxing; he was enjoying a good night's rest as the lodger of a poor family who made ends meet by letting out their spare room. The couple knew the assassin as Dolian, a traveler from Bartertown who was in Borzim for a few weeks on business. Dolian was the perfect guest; he was polite, appreciated the meals put in front of him, and had paid two weeks' rent up front. He had warned them that he might have to leave town abruptly. Dolian had considered an attempt to infiltrate the palace by night, but decided that the risk was too high. He would wait until the edge had gone from their fear, and then he would try again—and succeed. His masters did not welcome failure.

  XXX

  Outside the guardhouse, a pair of guards stared out across the darkened square, hoping that there wouldn't be any trouble while they were on duty. The night was cold, and the wind rising. The younger guard stamped his feet to keep warm, while his new partner shivered and drew her cloak around her. I am getting too old for this, Qualia thought. Perhaps I should see whether Kendik has a post going that would involve spending more time indoors.

  Inside the guardhouse, all seemed quiet, but a surprise inspection would have revealed that many beds that should have been occupied were empty. To find where the missing guards had gone would have required an intimate knowledge of the prison, and of those sealed-off areas that were the especial preserve of the Falcons. There, in a room that could hold thirty in comfort, almost fifty guards were crammed in, listening to a Falcon captain.

  "So we've had enough," he was saying. "No outsider is going to come in here on the back of a t'skrang army and tell us how to run things, or what we can and can't do in our own prison. I don't know who fired that shot at him, but all I can say is, it's a pity they missed. But we're not going to try a shot in the dark. We're going to march up to the palace in the morning and kick him and his friends out on their ears. The t'skrang are too far away to save him now."

  "Won't they come back, though? The town can't take another siege."

  "The t'skrang don't care about him. They only care that their precious water keeps flowing. We can keep the water flowing as good as Kendik, or better. And when we're strong enough, we'll deal with the t'skrang too."

  "Who's going to take over from him? You?"

  "Not likely. There are more than a few merchants in this town who'd love to sit behind Lord Tesek's desk. One of them can wear the gold chain and eat the fancy food, so long as they do what they're told. Are you with me?"

  There was a ragged chorus of cheers.

  "First light, then. Grab others you trust, and tell them to get ready."

  Chapter 23

  A firm hand shook Kendik awake. For a moment, Kendik did not recognize the worried face leaning over him, and he fumbled for the knife he had put beneath his pillow the night before. Anarya stirred and opened an eye.

  Words issued from Kullik's worried mouth. "Sire, come quickly! Rebels are marching on the palace!"

  That got them both moving, and Atlan moving in their wake. Kullik led them to the balcony from which Tesek had been abducted. Crouching down to peer over the parapet, they could see the stand-off which had developed on the road below. Twenty or so palace guards were attempting to face down at least fifty rebel guards, with the black of the Falcons prominent among them.

  "Why don't they advance?" asked An
arya.

  "They are reluctant to slaughter their fellow guards. They are seeking to bring the palace guards over to their side."

  "And what side is that?"

  "They are calling you an usurper, milord."

  Probably fair enough, thought Kendik; but he wasn't going to let the Falcons take over this town. "Where is Commander Trekaldis? Is he with them?"

  "I am trying to reach him, milord, but he is proving difficult to find."

  "I see. Very well. Find Devlit. Bring me some trustworthy Name-givers who can get out of this palace without being noticed. Find a scribe. And get us our armor."

  A few minutes later, Kendik strode down the front steps of his palace with Anarya at his side. They were clad in gleaming armor—even if, in Kendik's case, it wasn't quite the right size for him, and squeaked a little as he walked—and had swords sheathed at their sides. Atlan and his bow were with them, and Devlit hovered a few steps behind.

  Shouts and catcalls swirled towards them from the mass of rebels waiting down the street. Shouts, but no shots. Kendik went to join the guards at the gate. They were frightened, and poorly armed, but they had stood there for him when they could have run.

  "What do you want?" he called out to the rebels.

  "Your head on a pike!" shouted someone. "And one of our own in charge."

  "Yet I am Lord Tesek's rightful successor."

  "Prove it!"

  "A scribe is presently making copies of Tesek's testament to this effect. Within a few minutes, I will have them for you."

  This led to some dissension in the ranks. Plainly, some of the rebels were for striking immediately, while others did not want to attack men and women with whom they served. Kendik took the opportunity to move around his motley crew of guards, bestowing a smile here, a slap on the back there. He encouraged Anarya to do likewise. Women and men, young and old, human and dwarf, they were all that stood right now between him and defeat.

  Devlit tapped him on the shoulder and mouthed a question. Kendik shook his head minutely. They could stretch this out a little longer.

  The muttering opposite ended. "We'll give you two minutes!" the leader called.

  Kendik wondered whether that would be long enough. He looked at his enemies. They were angry, but perhaps they were not quite angry enough. He looked beyond them, and, without changing his expression, sighed inwardly in relief. Behind his back, he made a signal to Devlit.

  "The scribe has arrived!" Devlit said a moment later, and gestured at a scrawny man hurrying out of the palace with copies of Tesek's testament. These were brought to Kendik, who handed them to the captain of the detachment guarding the palace, who in turn—after a small dispute among the rebels about who should receive them—handed them over to two rebel guards.

  The rebels clustered around to look at them, and behind them, unnoticed, the people arrived in ones and twos to rescue their town. The messengers Kullik had sent out had done their job well, telling those they could trust of the threat to the palace, and leaving those people to notify their friends in turn. Kendik saw faces he knew—Viknis, Qualia hurrying up in her guard uniform, even, he was touched to note, Fekor, the self-appointed champion of de-mocracy—and many more he did not. Some few were armed, but most brought only themselves and the courage of their convictions. They advanced so slowly, so hesitantly, that it could barely be called an advance; but nevertheless they moved forward, drifting up the road towards the unsuspecting rebels.

  Kendik wanted the rebels to be surprised, but not too surprised. So he was not unhappy when one of them, hearing a noise behind him, looked around, then tugged at his companion's tunic. Before long, all the rebels knew that the situation had changed.

  "The people of Borzim believe that I am the rightful ruler," said Kendik.

  "The people are a rabble!" replied his chief adversary. He turned round and walked through the ranks of his own supporters towards the crowd.

  "You lot!" he said. "Go home and keep out of things which don't concern you."

  "Oh, but they do concern us," came a voice from the crowd. Its ranks parted, and Uthaia strode to the front. She was wearing a fur coat hastily thrown over what looked like a nightdress, and she was puffing slightly, but her voice was steady and clear. Behind her came other familiar faces. Ormanaria and some of her fellow builders were there; Lethik and Sakara, though not, Kendik was relieved to see, Natrass or his brothers; a large troll, fierce looking even by troll standards, whom he recognized after a moment as Vyaka Longtusk. She had brought other trolls with her as well; or perhaps Viknis had, for one of them was the proprietor of the tavern at which he sang. Wherever the loyalty of the crystal raiders lay, it seemed that these trolls were loyal to him, or at least to the office he embodied.

  The sight of the trolls caused further wavering in the ranks of the rebels. "Right now, half of them would rather be somewhere else," Anarya whispered to him.

  "It's the Falcons we need to worry about," Kendik replied. He counted twenty-eight black uniforms. They were well armed, with swords, spears, and maces. Their leader was arguing with Uthaia, but the rest of them were fanning out, forming two lines, one facing towards the palace guards, the others towards the crowd. If they attacked the crowd, there could be carnage. It was time to even up the odds.

  "Guards!" said Kendik. "I see that not all of you wish to disobey your lawful ruler, nor shed innocent blood. If you step aside now and lay down your weapons, you will not be punished. Show me that your loyalty lies with Borzim, not with these Falcons who would lead you to your deaths and the ruin of your town."

  Those of the rebel guards clad in blue and brown looked at Kendik, at each other, at the ground. None was willing to make the first move. Finally, a young woman stepped off the road and dropped the sword she carried. "They told me you would set the prisoners free to pillage the town," she said. Three other guards on her side of the street moved to join her, and then another couple of guards followed suit from the other side of the road.

  "Karrik Mestupinis!" came a voice from the crowd. "If you don't put your weapons down now, you'll never see the inside of my bedchamber again!" To cheers and catcalls from the crowd, the young man in question obeyed, moving to join his fellows in the neutral zone at the side of the road.

  The mood was perceptibly lightening. The rebel leader sensed it too. With a cry of anger, he ran after Karrik Mestupinis, raised his sword, and hacked the young man down.

  There was an anguished wail, and the crowd surged forward in wrath. Kendik knew that it was up to him to save them. "Take the Falcons!" he ordered his guards. "Do not attack the others unless they attack you!"

  There was not much chance of that. The attack on Mestupinis had convinced the other guards that the Falcons were not friends they wished to have, and suddenly, Kendik found that many of his former adversaries had become his allies. He surged forward. The blade of his sword grew red-hot, and then Kendik found himself growing to giant size. Devlit must be casting all the battle magic he could on him. Waving his sword menacingly, the giant Kendik strode into battle, dwarfing the others who advanced with him. From either side, the town guards picked up their weapons and attacked the Falcons. From downhill, the boldest of the townspeople, led by the trolls, advanced, turning paving stones and garden ornaments into makeshift weapons.

  Kendik swung his sword down and felt the nearest enemy's arm part from his body. He heard his enemy scream and knew the triumph of victory. Beside and below him, Anarya slipped her blade neatly through her adversary's defenses, and Atlan's bow sang a high song of triumph as it found its mark.

  If the Falcons had been a squad of well-trained, hardened soldiers, they would still have stood a chance of fighting off this multi-pronged assault, or at least, of taking many of their attackers down with them into death; but Tesek had created a force to intimidate the population and to weed out his enemies, not to fight against determined opposition. The Falcons had neither the stomach nor the technique for the fight.

  It was over
in minutes. The worst point for Kendik was when Devlit's spell wore off and he shrank back to his normal size. For a moment, he was disoriented, and he almost let an opponent in under his guard. But Anarya was fast, and her blade turned away the thrust of his enemy's blow before her skilful thrust slid through his thick leather armor into his heart. It was only after the man slumped dead to the ground that Kendik realized she had killed the rebel leader. Looking around, he saw that many of the Falcons were down. "Falcons!" he called. "Lay down your arms, and you will be allowed to surrender. Keep fighting, and you will die."

  The remaining Falcons could calculate the odds as well as he could. Panting and bloodied, they disengaged from the conflict. Vyaka Longtusk lowered her club regretfully and let her much smaller opponent surrender. The battle fever left Kendik, and he began to shake. With an effort of will, he controlled the reaction, and, seeing healers from the Houses of Garlen in the crowd, called them over to tend to the wounded on both sides. It took Anarya some time to make him realize that he was one of the wounded himself; the point of a sword had penetrated his ill-fitting armor and gashed his side, though the wound was not serious. Anarya herself was unscathed, but her armor was splashed with blood.

  Not all the defenders of Borzim had fared so well; five of the loyal palace guards lay dead, and three more of the rebel guards who had laid down their arms before the battle had borne the brunt of the Falcons' rage. That, more than anything else, Kendik felt responsible for. Most of the crowd had, prudently, stayed back from the conflict, but Ormanaria, Qualia, and Viknis were among those who had joined the trolls in combat. Ormanaria had come off worst; she wouldn't be doing any more building work until her broken arm had healed, and she was currently having it splinted. Qualia was berating her son, on the grounds that proficiency with a lute didn't make one a fighter, and Viknis was responding that he had only entered the fray to protect his mother. Neither had suffered a scratch.