For the Killing of Kings

by Howard Andrew Jones

  But then the rain ceased and sun-blasted salt flats wavered into view. A pinkish orb hung low on the horizon and wind trailed little whirls of red dust in its wake. Nearer at hand lay the vast skeleton of a long-dead fish, its spines soaring like temple arches from the withered ground.

  The storm had run its course, and she relaxed, only realizing as she sucked in breaths that she’d been winded from the exertions.

  Kyrkenall nodded at her, a tight smile on his handsome features. “Not bad, Squire. Not bad at all.”

  “Not bad, sir?” She grinned at him, surprised by how weak she sounded. Small wonder—she’d wielded greater power in a single half hour than she would have been capable of in an entire month of spell casting. Maybe an entire year.

  “You’d best pull away from the hearthstone.”

  “I think,” she admitted, “it’s the only thing keeping me upright.”

  “All the more reason to relinquish it. You risk losing yourself if you’re still attached when you go under.”

  She had read about the inherent dangers of peering too long or too intently through the inner world. Death was one of the less nasty side effects. She didn’t feel that much in danger. The hearthstone was a comforting presence. But she decided to humor him and withdraw.

  It was the last thing she remembered for many hours.

  5

  A Dying Look

  She woke within a small tent, so disoriented that for a moment she imagined everything had been a dream.

  Light filtered through the canvas above, and she smelled cooked meat. She was ravenous, she realized, and pushed the blanket covering aside.

  She found her borrowed khalat beside her. She felt her face redden as she imagined Kyrkenall removing it from her, then pushed that thought from her mind and paused for brief morning prayers. There was no room inside the tent to stand, so she dragged the robe outside with her and almost tripped over her weapons belt in front of the opening, next to her boots. She dressed awkwardly, trying not to think of his small, graceful hands unclasping the very hooks she now fastened.

  A normal yellow sun hung beyond a distant stand of pine trees. Rocks striated with rust and brown littered the earth, and a small clear pool of water lay a few feet to her right, where Kyrkenall filled his waterskin. A snow-topped mountain ridge with blue-and-white craggy summits loomed on the horizon. Aron and Kyrkenall’s mount, Lyria, nibbled grass near a stand of trees, a chill wind whipping at their manes.

  Kyrkenall grinned at her. “Ah. You’re up. How are you?”

  In truth, her ribs were a little sore and her head ached. “Fine, I guess, sir. How long was I out?”

  “A day or so. It’s evening now.”

  She’d been sleeping that long? “And where are we?” This was a different landscape than last she remembered.

  “Northern Erymyr.” He indicated the ridge with a nod of his head. “Our tower’s a few hours that way. Darassus is far to the south, across mountain passes.”

  “How did we get here?”

  “How do you think? I had to lay you across your horse.”

  Stupid question. Why did he always leave her feeling so off-balance?

  “What do you think we’ll find at the tower, sir?”

  “It’s supposed to be empty. We did winter exercises there when I was a squire, and it was unstaffed the rest of the time. But I suppose if they’re keeping something important there they might have set a guard.”

  “They couldn’t have too many posted, could they?” she asked. “People would know if there were a lot of soldiers stationed there. Their families would wonder where they were, wouldn’t they?”

  “Depends upon who’s assigned. Do you want something to eat?”

  She answered with an enthusiastic yes and soon was hunched over a battered metal plate piled with food. Kyrkenall had browned some griddle cakes and warmed up some dried meat from his stores, then drizzled a little honey over the whole mess. She was delighted, declaring it one of the finest ways she’d ever broken a fast.

  He laughed. “You must really be hungry. Good honey’s a treat, though, isn’t it?”

  She nodded.

  He sat down across from her, his strange dark eyes somehow warm. “You did well out there. Very well. That storm was worse than I feared.”

  She tried not to beam. “Thank you, Alten.”

  He sighed. “Look, I’m all for honoring your elders and like that, but can you trim it back?”

  She looked at him questioningly. “Sir?”

  “That’s what I’m talking about, right there. It’s ‘sir’ this and ‘alten’ that nearly every time you speak to me. Just be a little less formal, all right?”

  She froze, wondering how best to implement the order.

  “Relax,” he insisted. “It’s not been an easy time for you, I guess. A lot of changes too quickly. I doubt you wanted to be involved in a conspiracy any more than I did.”

  “A conspiracy?”

  “Murders. Secrets. Lies. Sounds like a conspiracy to me.” His expression darkened.

  “A conspiracy about what, though?” She bit back from adding “sir” just in time, and swallowed another bite.

  “Well, I’ve been trying to put that together. So. Item one.” He lifted a pebble and sat it down on a rock in front of him for emphasis. “They’ve done something with the sword that they don’t want anyone to find out about. They’re worried enough about it that they’re willing to kill a hero of the realm.”

  “What did they do with it?” Elenai asked.

  “Seems like they put it away, far north in the Chasm Tower.” Kyrkenall sat another pebble down beside the first.

  “Is that actually a new point?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “If you’re listing things our enemy did, isn’t that just part of the first issue, about them doing something with the sword?”

  He frowned and muttered, “Kalandra always made this teaching stuff look easy.” Then he continued in a normal tone. “Anyway. They took the sword and put it in this tower for reasons unknown. They killed Asrahn.” He set down another pebble, reached for a fourth and placed it in the line. “They were ready to kill us.” He placed another. “It’s so important that they brought a hearthstone to stop me.”

  “And do we entirely know who they are?”

  “No. But we can be sure of the four dead ones, for starters. Probably the entire Mage Auxiliary. Probably Denaven. Probably the queen, since he’s her hound and they’re both in league with the Mage Auxiliary. The real question is, which Altenerai are involved? I’m wondering if all the new ones are part of it. You know them far better than me. What are they like?”

  He was asking as he would an equal. She felt her face flush with pride and answered after swallowing another bite. “There are only three other new ones. Gyldara’s been Asrahn’s right hand for the last few years, and she’s fiercely loyal to both him and the corps. I really can’t imagine she’d be involved with anyone who’d want him dead. And if she were, she’d probably go for their throats the moment she learned they killed him. Oh.”

  “What is it?”

  “M’lahna was her sister. She’s the one who was carrying the hearthstone.”

  “Right. So you think that means Gyldara’s in league with them?”

  “No. I think it means she’s going to be after both of us once they find her sister’s body.” Gyldara was efficient and capable and straightforward, and Elenai had always admired her. It saddened her to think the woman might now be after them. Moreover, she’d be a fearsome antagonist. That she was a deadly warrior was to be expected—all Altenerai were formidable. But she was also the most driven of the younger ring-sworn. “I don’t think it will be good to have her as an enemy.”

  Kyrkenall snorted dismissively. “I’m sure I’ve had worse. What about the other two?”

  “Lasren’s kind of…” She hesitated, then from Kyrkenall’s look decided to be bluntly honest. “He’s in it for the prestige. Rylin’s k
ind of the same, but there’s a core of decency to him. I don’t think either are the type for conspiracies. Both are more about going their own way and having fun.”

  “How sure are you about that?”

  “Fairly sure. Lasren and K’narr were friends, which is the only thing that gives me doubt. But K’narr was usually following Denaven around, and Lasren is usually palling around with Rylin.”

  Kyrkenall looked unconvinced. “So there’s a possibility they recruited Lasren, and maybe Rylin. And Gyldara is going to hate us regardless.”

  “Yes,” she agreed reluctantly. “What about the older Altenerai?”

  “I think we can rule out Aradel. She wouldn’t have anything to do with Denaven or the queen.”

  The story behind Aradel’s resignation was well known through the ranks, although Elenai now realized she’d heard a skewed version of it. An ingenious tactician, second only to N’lahr himself, Aradel had been expected to assume his place after the famous general’s untimely death, but had been passed over in favor of Denaven at the insistence of the queen. The slight—or, Elenai realized, perhaps the peace treaty that followed—had so enraged Aradel that she’d publically excoriated both her new commander and the queen before storming off to The Fragments, where she was soon elected governor. The Fragments, like the other Allied Realms, went its own way most of the time, owing little but military allegiance in times of external threat, and it was even less deferential to the wishes of the crown under Aradel’s leadership. It was impossible to imagine her linked to any scheme that required allying with Denaven.

  Kyrkenall continued. “Belahn’s been semiretired for about five years, focused mainly on protecting his home village, which lies not far from Naor lands, so I don’t see how he’d be involved. And Cerai’s always been kind of a lone wolf; I think she may actually despise Denaven more than I do.” He shrugged. “So they’re out. Enada almost never leaves Kanesh, and is too busy fighting kobalin and Naor there. Besides, she’s about as subtle as I am. So she’s out.”

  “That leaves Decrin, Varama, and Tretton. The ones in Darassus.”

  “And that’s bad enough. Tretton can follow quarry across trackless stone desert. He’s got skills I don’t even pretend to understand. And you know all those stories you hear about how formidable Decrin is?”

  There were an awful lot of them, usually about him carving his way through a mass of enemies.

  “Every one of them’s true. He’s unstoppable. Even when he’s covered in blood he just keeps coming. But he’s too honest to be a conspirator.”

  Elenai agreed; she had a difficult time imagining the bluff, friendly war hero would be party to intrigue. She spoke before stuffing in the last bite of food. “How about Tretton? Would he league with the traitors?” She was fairly sure the answer would be no.

  Kyrkenall made a sour face. “He’s even more of a stickler than Asrahn. I could see him going along with something slightly rotten, if he was ordered to do so.”

  “But he and Asrahn are—were—friends. I’ve seen them off duty together.”

  “That doesn’t mean much. He’s the kind of soldier who doesn’t question, who obeys authority because, to his way of thinking, rules and tradition keep us from falling into chaos.” The archer sighed. “You’ve got to realize how sneaky Denaven is. He might convince Tretton and Decrin both. I love Decrin, but he’s not that bright. And, it pains me to admit, Denaven’s dangerous himself. He’s wily and he fights dirty and he’ll never, ever forget or give up until he has what he wants, even if he pretends to.”

  Elenai noticed he’d still left out one alten. “What about Varama?”

  Kyrkenall didn’t hesitate or equivocate. “If Varama’s after us, we don’t stand a chance.”

  His cold certainty surprised her, because she’d never heard that the blue-skinned alten was particularly well-known as either a blade or spell caster. But she didn’t ask him to elaborate. “You think Denaven could trick her, too?”

  He laughed. “No. She’s usually thinking about five steps ahead of everybody else. I just can’t be sure if she’s paying attention, because she’s usually thinking about something else even when she’s looking at you. She did seem troubled when I asked if she’d seen Asrahn, but that might not mean anything.”

  Kyrkenall swept the pebbles off the rock, where they bounced out of sight into the tough grasses. “We’re just going around in circles. Who might be with us, who might be against. What any of this is really about. We’re not getting any further until we breach the tower and get to the sword.”

  Elenai took the opportunity to voice a nagging doubt. “The sword’s not really going to have answers.”

  “Obviously. But someone guarding it will.”

  Hopefully. “What do we do if one of the Altenerai is guarding it? One of those who usually aren’t in Darassus, like Enada, or Belahn, or Cerai? Their absences might just be a blind.”

  “We’ll deal with whatever we find there.” Kyrkenall’s handsome features darkened with menace. “If they’re involved with Asrahn’s death…” He left the threat unspoken.

  Elenai set aside her plate, along with her worries about direct confrontation with the most powerful warriors in the known world. “When you asked M’lahna what she was really doing, she said it was all about restoring the realms. She mentioned a goddess returning. What goddess, and how?”

  “Damned if I know. Sounded a little crazy. Like she’d spent too long playing with hearthstones.”

  “What are the hearthstones, really?”

  “Commander Renik thought they were arcane tools the Gods used to shape the world. Kalandra thought they might be naturally occurring reservoirs of energy swept out of the Shifting Lands. Nobody knows.” He paused for a minute. “Well, maybe the queen and the mages have figured it out, because they’ve been collecting every one they can find. But they’re not talking. All I know is that they’re trouble.”

  “Where do they collect them from?”

  “All the distant places. Apparently there was one kept in Darassus from early on, but it was inactive. And then about a generation ago an alten found a new one in The Fragments after a storm.”

  Elenai had never been there but knew The Fragments was one of the most fragile of realms because, rather than being completely solid like the other four great land masses, it was actually a series of closely linked splinters and islands through which tiny rivulets of the Shifting Lands were threaded, ranging in width from a handful of miles to only a few hundred feet. People and even animals freely roamed the gaps, which resembled the surrounding terrain except during the fiercest storms. Owing to those gaps, strange things, both terrible and wondrous, could spring up even deep in the middle of the realm.

  “Queen Leonara was just the appointed heir then, in charge of whatever minor issues the old queen didn’t care about. I’m told she’d always been curious about the hearthstone in the palace, and now another one had turned up. So she told the Altenerai to keep an eye out for them, and pretty soon they started noticing them scattered everywhere. They turned up in our realms. They turned up in the lonely realms where the Naor live, and the weird little fragments and splinters out in the shifts where the kobalin lair, and even drifting in the true deeps, where there are only the tiniest occasional pockets of reality.”

  “I could see why she’d be interested in them.”

  “They weren’t active, though,” Kyrkenall said. “A mage could sense the latent power, but no one even knew to open them until Rialla got ahold of one. She was just a squire. Kalandra’s squire,” he added.

  In a flash she remembered seeing Rialla’s service record upon Altenerai plaques in the Hall of Remembrance because she’d been struck by its brevity. “She was the one who was alten for only a day, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes,” he said, his voice brittle. “She was brilliant. And she deserved a whole lot better.…” His voice trailed off, and she had to spur him to continue.

  “What happened once Kalandra and Ri
alla got the hearthstones working?”

  “Leonara was queen by then, and her interest had become obsession. She cared less about the Naor war than she did the damned stones. N’lahr was out there winning against impossible odds but she kept sending our best and brightest after the stupid hearthstones. That’s what happened to Commander Renik.” Kyrkenall’s voice grew knife sharp. “She kept sending him to more and more remote places. Sometimes he’d be gone for months, and he’d come back bruised and bloody, but he’d always come back. Until one day, he didn’t. The queen has a lot to answer for, starting with how she wasted his life. And how she wasted Kalandra’s the same way.”

  He shook his head. “That’s about all I know. You can see why the Altenerai don’t carry hearthstones into battle. Other mages can use them as easily as the person holding one. So the queen gathers them up, and the auxiliary studies them.” His manner brightened as he changed subjects. “Do you feel like you’re getting used to the one we have?”

  “It’s wonderful,” she admitted. “I’ve never weaved with such clarity.”

  “It’ll be a lot harder for them to find us if the thing is off. Do you think you can deactivate it?”

  “I thought you didn’t think I could.”

  “That was before you showed me how clever you were.”

  That was nice. “Do you have any idea how it’s done?”

  “Kalandra told me about it. There’s apparently a spot, a sort of weak point, or spigot, and there’s a way of shifting energies around that opens or closes it.”

  Kalandra again. Well, she seemed to be Kyrkenall’s greatest source of magical knowledge, and so far what he’d passed on from her had proven useful. “Let me try.”

  She wasn’t worried about anything but failure. Despite all of Kyrkenall’s warnings she’d felt no danger yesterday while using the hearthstone. And she certainly had never sensed that the hearthstone was alive and looking back at her. Maybe the alten was overcautious about things he couldn’t understand.