Текст книги "The masked witches"

Автор книги: Richard Lee Byers

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SIX

It wasn t much of a village, just a cluster of huts in the rugged hills between Lake Ashane and the Urlingwood. In such a backwater, there were relatively few people to kill, and even fewer who could put up a fight against the dead. By the time Dai Shan s shadow arrived, the massacre was nearly over, but not quite. It felt the survivors before it actually saw them, as points of warmth in the cold and dark. It sensed its peers, too, as something colder than cold and emptier than empty.

As the shadow came loping down the slope, one grinning corpse gripped a little boy s ankles, and another, his wrists. They pulled in opposite directions, and if they were hoping to rip him in two, they were disappointed. But he screamed as his arms and legs came out of their sockets.

A ghoul clawed a woman to rags, and then, when the victim stopped struggling, took an experimental bite out of her shoulder. It spat the bloody flesh out again, dumped the body on the ground, and, swinging itself along on its knuckles, scuttled toward the tiny graveyard.

A man drove a spear into a thing so decayed that the shadow couldn t tell if it had originally been male or female. Though it had no eyes left in the dark and mushy wreckage for a head, the creature looked down at the weapon, then grabbed its attacker by the neck.

The shadow needed to decide how best to approach the killers. It was still pondering in its murky way when a hathran in a white tabard, cloak, and single-horned mask and a unicorn suddenly appeared among the carnage.

Together, they shed a silvery glow that burned and dazzled the dead like sunlight. While the creatures were still reeling from that, the unicorn whipped its head and tore the mushy thing in two with its horn. The hathran chanted a prayer that turned the left half of a ghoul s body to dust. After the part that was left fell down, it tried feebly and futilely to crawl.

Perhaps because the shadow hadn t hurt anyone, the priestess and the unicorn didn t appear to notice it. It realized it had an opportunity to win the trust and attention of its fellow undead. It circled around behind the unicorn and the hathran. Then it charged.

When it got close enough, the pale light seared it, too, but the pain was bearable. It pounced like a cat, landing on the unicorn s back, and plunging its freezing, insubstantial hands into the sacred animal s flesh. The unicorn jerked and screamed.

Raising her scimitar, the witch pivoted toward her ally. But before she could strike or cast a spell at the shadow, an imp the size of a hawk, with beating batlike wings, pointed ears, and a mouth full of needle fangs, appeared in the air directly behind her. It whipped its tail, and the stinger at the end of it, at the back of her head.

The sting didn t seem to penetrate her woolen cowl. But she whirled to defend herself from the hovering devil and left the unicorn to look after itself.

The shadow pummeled the sacred beast repeatedly, as fast as it could. But the animal simply vanished out from underneath its attacker.

The shadow spilled to the ground like water. The unicorn popped back into view on its flank and instantly leaped, its shining horn leveled.

The shadow threw itself to the side, and the thrust missed. The unicorn pivoted, reared, and battered at it with its front hooves. One blow plunged through its arm, and it felt a shock of pain.

A burst of dark red, somehow filthy-looking flame splashed across the unicorn s side. The animal screamed and staggered, dropping back onto all fours. As it struggled to recover its balance, an undead stepped in and clubbed it in the head with a war hammer. Blood splashed and bone crunched. The unicorn collapsed and lay motionless. The haze of silvery glow surrounding it and the hathran dimmed.

The animal s slayer was a walking corpse with three fleshless skulls on his shoulders instead of one. Judging from his mail, his faded, rotting, but ornately embroidered surcoat, and his manifest power, he was almost certainly the captain of the raiding party.

With the unicorn slain, the undead leader rounded on the hathran, but needlessly so. The holy woman was collapsing under the stinging, biting onslaught of half a dozen imps. In another moment, the pale ambient glow blinked out of existence entirely, extinguished along with her life.

The leader looked around, and darkness seethed in the eye sockets of the middle skull. The entity s fallen minions stirred as an infusion of strength repaired the harm the unicorn and the witch had done to them.

The leader whistled and raised a hand that wore a bulky gauntlet resembling a falconer s glove. Snarling and gibbering, bloody-mouthed, the imps rose from the hathran s corpse and flew to their master. As each swooped close to the gauntlet, it disappeared.

The three-headed creature then turned to peer at the shadow.

You re not one of mine, said the middle skull. But you can be. You can join us.

But the shadow knew that wasn t so, because its will wasn t its own. It was a bound thing, made for one specific purpose, and it was time to fulfill it.

The shadow took all its strength and turned that power to a final purpose. By so doing, it perished, and Dai Shan appeared in its place.

Well, not really, the Shou thought as he offered the three-headed undead a deep and courtly bow. He was still a shadow, or perhaps at that point it was more apt to call himself a reflection. Either way, he too would cease to be when the magic that had created him ran its course. Until then, though, he could think and speak like the original, and the original would know what he accomplished thereby.

I take it, said the leader, his tone less cordial than before, that you fancied yourself the master of the shadow that just sacrificed itself so you could appear before me.

Yes, said Dai Shan, taking care not to risk giving offense by reacting to the stinks of corruption and burnt unicorn fouling the cold night air. I created and commanded it. I m Dai Shan of the House of Shan in Telflamm, if those names mean anything to one so venerable as the august magus I see before me.

It s a crime for any of the living to seek to control an undead, the leader said.

Dai Shan arched an eyebrow. Even one that would never have existed in the first place had the living man not shaped it from a wisp of himself? he asked. I m not sure that s incontrovertibly rational or incontestably fair. Still, I humbly apologize for inadvertently offending against your customs.

It s not a custom. It s a law, the creature replied.

As you say, Dai Shan said. It really was cold here, and the Shou instructed himself not to shiver. Not only would it disgrace him, but it might lead the thing with three heads to imagine he was afraid, and that in turn might elicit aggression.

But sadly, it s too late for the enforcement of any law to benefit the shadow, Dai Shan continued. As you so astutely observed, it s already gone beyond recall, and the actual person who made and directed it is beyond your reach. Might it not be more productive, then, for you and his proxy to discuss matters of mutual import in the time remaining before I, too, disappear?

The undead leader grunted, or perhaps it was a single grudging beat of laughter. What do you want, Dai Shan of the House of Shan in Telflamm? it said.

The valiant captain s name, for a start, if you see fit to honor me with it, replied the Shou.

Falconer will do. What else do you want?

Griffons.

The undead hesitated. I don t know what you mean, it said.

Then please, allow me to enlighten you. Dai Shan said. He told the undead about the captured beasts, Yhelbruna, and the competition she d proclaimed.

When he had finished, Falconer said, Then it sounds like you or the phantom that was here before you should have fought on the unicorn s side.

Only if I thought that my agents and I could contribute significantly to the hathrans victory, replied Dai Shan, But what if I question whether such a victory will even materialize? What if I think that you risen Nars and durthans have a better chance of prevailing? Then it would be prudent to throw in with you. That is, of course, if you re willing to part with the griffons to compensate me for the assistance I would provide.

Falconer fingered the fleshless jaw of the middle skull while he said, If I were this Yhelbruna, I might well send an agent or his proxy to make such an offer in the hope that some gullible soul would take him into his confidence and divulge useful information. Especially if there was no true risk to the actual agent himself.

Inwardly, Dai Shan acknowledged Falconer s shrewdness. That was indeed one ploy to attempt in the game in which he was trying to be on everyone s or at least the hathrans, the undead s, and Mario Bez s side at once.

Noble champion, he said, you re wise to be cautious, and indeed, I expected nothing less. But I believe I know how to allay your concerns. Tell me nothing. Not yet. Instead, simply let me help you. I ve explained there are four other groups who truly are seeking your downfall. Let me destroy one of them as a way of demonstrating my good faith.

I have a measure of authority, but I m not the supreme commander of all my kind, replied the undead. I can t say yes or no to such a venture.

Then I suggest we devise a means of communication that will allow such deliberations to proceed, said the Shou.

Cera cried out as the sweet building pressure inside her exploded into release, and Aoth grunted as he finished right along with her. After a few moments, he rolled off her, and they lay for a time, their sweaty bodies pressed together, utterly relaxed and looking up at the rafters of Borilak Murokina s longhouse.

That was delicious, she said after a while.

Glad you liked it, he replied with a chuckle.

I wonder what it would have been like to do it in the Feywild.

We were a little busy, and maybe it s just as well. If it was too good

Then making love in our world might not satisfy us anymore? I don t believe that could ever happen.

No, neither do I, really.

But I guess this will have to hold us for a while. She pouted. Even though the only reason I came north was to be with you.

He peered at her as he did when he wasn t sure if she was teasing. She realized she wasn t entirely sure, either.

You know I don t want to separate, he said. But I don t think any of us should go anywhere by himself

And obviously, she replied, Vandar needs to be one of those who goes back to Immilmar to bring the Griffon Lodge north. But he and Jhesrhi could ride the wind east while you and I go with Zyl to see the fey.

Aoth sighed before saying, That s the way I d like to do it. But

You don t think you should separate from Jhesrhi, Cera replied.

Is it that obvious?

It is to me.

Well, I hope it isn t to her. I don t want her to think I don t trust her. And that s not it. Not so far. But I am worried. She says she s glad she changed, and I understand how she might be. But is it true? At times, she fought so hard to overcome her problems. What s this but an excuse to surrender to them?

I understand your worries, and of course you have to take care of her. She s your foster daughter, or near enough, and I don t want you to think looking after her makes a problem between you and me. It s just

What?

Cera wasn t sure herself what she truly wanted to say but continued on as best she could. During that final battle in Luthcheq, we killed dragons. Perhaps, without quite realizing it, I came away thinking that if we could manage that, no lesser foe could harm us. I certainly didn t expect this journey to be especially dangerous. But we almost lost Jet in the sacred grove. I could have lost you when the fomorian held you spellbound.

But we re all fine now, Aoth said.

But it didn t have to turn out that way.

Aoth frowned. Sweetheart, I don t know what you want me to say. That we re invincible? You re not a child, and you know better. Any soldier can die in any fight against any enemy. All it takes is one mistake or a bit of bad luck. But you, Jhes, Jet, and I are good at what we do. The odds are with us most of the time, and when they re not, we cheat.

I know, and I m not turning into a coward

I certainly know that.

It just strikes me, you ll always be a warrior and have battles to fight. That s just who you are. But does it have to be exactly like this? After what you accomplished in Chessenta, Shala Karanok would be happy to make a permanent place for you there. You could be a nobleman; Jhesrhi, Gaedynn, and Khouryn could be knights; and the Brotherhood could become a part of the regular army.

And you wouldn t have to choose between being the head of your faith in Chessenta and staying with me.

I love you, Aoth. Truly. But I can t roam the world with you if Amaunator tells me my place is in Luthcheq.

And I love you. Truly. But I won t become the vassal of any lord. Not even a good one like Shala.

Why not?

I suppose because when I was young, I served too many bad ones. Their ambitions laid waste to my homeland, and they used me with no regard at all for my welfare. And eventually, it made me decide that I was never going to think of anyone as my better or my master ever again. And I never have. Sellswords offer their services to kings and such, but we negotiate the terms, and the contracts are always temporary.

She shifted, getting more comfortable in the crook of his muscular arm. I know you re independent, she said.

You don t even like the suggestion that a god is telling you what to do.

You re right, he replied. When Yhelbruna started raving about messages from the spirits and sending us all off on a quest, I was almost ready to chuck this whole enterprise. He smiled a crooked smile. But only almost. I need those griffons.

Then somehow we ll win them, she said with a sigh. And probably, by then, it will be time to go home.

Where we don t know what will happen when all you sunlords and sunladies gather. The others may not even try to elect you. I ll bet there are priests who actually want the job politicking frantically in your absence.

Cera decided not to say that there might be a part of her that actually wanted the job, too.

Folcoerr Dulsaer looked at the griffons sleeping in the snowy field. The men had built fires at various points as their commander had ordered. Some of the griffonriders had grumbled that the hardy mounts could handle the cold, and Dulsaer privately conceded that they almost certainly were right. But he d always been solicitous of the steeds welfare. That, to his way of thinking, was the true mark of an honorable man: he took good care of the lesser creatures such as animals and children that fate placed in his keeping.

His eyes automatically sought out Copper, his own mount, slumbering like the rest. He realized that even though he was nearly as tired as his steed, he wished he could spend the morning flying, just the griffon and him. It might help him forget the frustration of crisscrossing the wretched, barbaric land for days on end without ever finding his quarry.

Even sleeping, said a soft baritone voice, the beasts are magnificent.

Startled, Dulsaer jerked around to see Dai Shan standing in that straight, still, and somehow vaguely dainty way of his. The Shou s breath steamed, but other than that, there was no indication that he felt the chill in the air, even though his long green overcoat didn t look all that warm. The longhouses of Immilmar with their peaked sod roofs stood a long bow shot behind him, brown accents in a world of winter white.

Dulsaer s mouth tightened. He d never liked Dai Shan, and disliked him still further since the merchant had made a fool of him in front of the Wychlaran. Still, he supposed it behooved him to show the man a modicum of civility.

Yes, they are, he said. Did you hike out from town just to look at them?

Dai Shan smiled as he said, It was griffons that lured us all here, brave captain. Naturally, I d like to become more familiar with them. And now that the Iron Lord has posted guards to keep us from approaching too close to the wild ones, I have nowhere else to study them. I must say, these look every bit as strong and as fierce as the ones we re squabbling over.

Dulsaer nodded. Absolutely, he said.

Which begs the question, said the Shou, if Aglarond already has griffons of such quality, why are you so intent on acquiring the ones in Rashemi hands?

What the simbarchs want, their servant delivers.

But I have absolute confidence that such a shrewd officer knows why they want them, and could enlighten me if he chose.

Dulsaer shrugged. I suppose it s not a secret, just common sense. When it comes to a weapon like griffons, you can t have too much of it. You re also wise to keep your enemies from getting any. The first time Aglarond tried to take back the Wizard s Reach, that turncoat Fezim brought griffons against us, and that was part of the reason we lost. For that matter, Thay itself once had a Griffon Legion. Don t you think they d rebuild it if given a chance?

It may be so.

And Thay s the enemy of every other land in the East. But if you had the griffons, you d sell them to Szass Tam, wouldn t you? You d figure his gold spends the same as anybody else s.

It grieves me, valiant sir, that you appear to regard my profession with disdain. I humbly concede, it s not heroic like your own, but still, it would be a cheerless, hardscrabble world without commerce.

Maybe so, but tell me I m wrong about the griffons and you.

About me, personally, you are. I have some insight into the source of Szass Tam s powers, and the unfortunate things that would befall any realm that came under his sway. But I must admit, my elders in the House of Shan might not see that as clearly as I do, and I too have orders to obey. Happily, I enjoy a certain amount of latitude as to how I interpret them.

Dulsaer cocked his head. What are you getting at? Say it straight out.

As you wish. In front of the hathrans, carried away by the enthusiasm of the moment, I expressed my intent to destroy the creatures troubling this realm. But later, I reluctantly came to the conclusion that you were right: My little band lacks the resources to accomplish any such thing. You, on the other hand, possess precisely the armed might necessary Except that, if rumor can be trusted, you haven t had any luck locating the enemy.

So you re suggesting a partnership?

Of a kind that ought to suit you very well. If I don t help you win the griffons, you naturally owe me nothing. But if I do, you ll still take possession of all the animals, and simply pay a fee for my assistance. You ll go home with everything you came for, and I ll reap sufficient profit to satisfy my father even though it s not the prize he sent me to fetch.

Some people say you ve already made a deal with Mario Bez. That you were seen talking to him the last time his skyship flew back into town.

Seeking opportunity, a trader talks to all sorts of people. That doesn t mean I wouldn t prefer a covenant with an honorable officer over a sordid arrangement with an infamous mercenary.

Hm, Dulsaer murmured as he turned the proposal over in his mind, looking for a flaw. Feeling a bit like a cunning, greedy merchant himself, he asked, How big a fee?

As she tramped along, planting the butt of her staff with every other stride, the snow crunching beneath her war boots, Jhesrhi kept an eye out for tracks and figures lurking behind the trees. It was probably a waste of effort. Aoth and Zyl were likely to spot trouble before she did. But life had taught her never to entrust her safety entirely to others if she could avoid it.

How much farther? Aoth asked, a hint of impatience in his voice.

Not far, the black hare answered, so stay close. We ll come up on the sentries soon, and we want to make sure they understand the two of you are with me. Humans aren t generally welcome this deep in the forest.

Aoth snorted. Does Rashemen have any woods that aren t forbidden, sacred, or both? he asked.

Not many, Zyl replied. Fundamentally, it s a land of spirits and fey, who tolerate what they consider to be lesser creatures just as long as we show the proper respect.

We? Jhesrhi asked.

Zyl laughed a shrill, pulsing sound enough like a human wail of pain to be unnerving. I really am just an animal, a fire spirit, he said, although one who s learned some useful tricks since a precocious child awakened him on a whim. There are those who d say you belong in the courts of the fey more than I do.

For some reason, she said, you have a mistaken impression of me. It s true I ve acquired an affinity with fire, but I m still a human being.

If it pleases you to think so, lady, then who am I to argue otherwise? Zyl said.

I see one of your sentries, said Aoth. Ahead and a little to the left.

With that to guide her, Jhesrhi spotted the watcher, too. He somewhat resembled a slender elf archer with pointed ears and slanted eyes. But the elves she d seen had little body hair, whereas the sentry appeared to have a tawny down covering him. His face was narrower and less manlike than an elf s, and she couldn t read its expression. Long canines extended from under his upper lip, and smallish antlers jutted from his brow with shiny metal objects attached to the points.

Interesting, said Aoth. I haven t run across folk like that before.

They started out as elves, Zyl said, or so the story goes. But then, in a time of desperation, they asked a spirit called the Stag King to save them from the doom that was coming to claim them. He agreed to do it if he could lie with three of their maidens. Perhaps not understanding just how strong his blood would prove to be, the elves agreed. After a few generations, they were all like him, and made no objection when he returned to rule as their king.

As Jhesrhi and her companions marched onward, Aoth pointed out other archers watching from hiding like the first. In time, a silvery chiming like sleigh bells sounded at the sellswords backs.

What s that? asked Aoth.

The bells in their antlers, Zyl replied. Their way of telling you that now that you ve come this far, you can t turn back.

In other words, said Aoth, they think they can scare us onward like beaters flushing game. That s not very flattering or friendly, either.

They re not a friendly people.

Then why serve them if you re not really a dark fey yourself?

You ve seen that I have powers.

Yes.

Well, like the elves in the story, I had to bargain for what I wanted with one who was willing to trade with me. Now, look sharp. We re almost there.

The travelers wound their way through a thick stand of ash and alder to the clearing on the other side. At first, Jhesrhi couldn t see any reason why no trees grew on that particular patch of ground. Then she took another step, and a castle wavered into view in front of her. The lines of the spires and battlements had once been graceful and harmonious, and the walls once adorned with intricate mosaics. But everything was crumbling and faded.

What world is that fortress actually standing in? she asked.

This one, currently, said Zyl. And it hardly ever slides except at night.

Jhesrhi supposed it was as reassuring an answer as she had any right to expect. She and Aoth followed the hare through the gate and across a snowy courtyard. The inhabitants watched as they passed. The females didn t have antlers, but that didn t make the contours of their long, tapered faces any less strange.

In the Stag King s hall itself, two naked males were wrestling, alternately grappling like humans and slamming and grinding their antlers together. The little round bells wired to their points chimed with every violent, straining motion. That, the grunting, the slap of flesh on flesh, and the click of cloven hooves on the floor were the only sounds in evidence. Unlike a human audience, who would surely be cheering their favorites on, a ring of spectators watched the contest in silence.

Wait here, said Zyl. He hopped around the onlookers and out of sight.

The bout ended shortly thereafter, when the stag men locked antlers, and one flipped the other off his feet with a savage wrenching motion that involved his entire body. At last the onlookers showed their appreciation or at least Jhesrhi assumed that was what they intended by nodding and setting the bells attached to their own antlers ringing.

From the far end of the hall, someone called, Clear a path! Let me see what the hare dragged in! The voice was as deep as a cyclops s.

The stag men in the hall pivoted to regard the strangers by the door, but if they were surprised or alarmed to discover them there, Jhesrhi couldn t tell. They vacated the center of the chamber, and she had her first look at the Stag King, slouched on a finely carved wooden throne.

His height and bulk matched his voice, and though his high-backed chair was more than big enough for any elf to sit in comfort, he appeared squeezed into it. But despite his hugeness, and antlers that dwarfed those borne by any of his descendants, in some ways, he looked more manlike or elflike than they did. His features were human enough to bespeak arrogance.

He waved a hand, and four guards started forward. It seemed obvious that they intended to manhandle the mercenaries up to the throne.

Jhesrhi felt the old familiar loathing at the prospect of being touched. Aoth? she said.

I agree, he answered, sidestepping to distance himself from her. Let s make a different kind of first impression.

With a thought, she brought the fire inside her leaping forth to cloak her from head to toe. She also tapped the butt of her staff on the cracked and grimy floor, and the torches in the wall sconces evidently deemed unnecessary because shafts of sunlight shone through the openings higher up all burst into flame.

Aoth meanwhile leveled his spear, set the head aglow with blue phosphorescence, and swung it in an arc to point at each oncoming guard in turn. They faltered, and so did almost every other stag man in the hall.

I told you they were mages, said Zyl. Jhesrhi noticed that he was sitting up on his haunches at the foot of the Stag King s throne.

Did you also tell him we claim guest right? asked Aoth. That means nobody should be trying to lay hands on us.

I trust Zyl s judgment within limits, the Stag King said. Still, it s one thing for him to tell me you have power and mettle, and another for me to see for myself. Now, I have. He beckoned. Come forward.

Jhesrhi drew her fire back inside herself, and Aoth raised his spear to point straight up again. They advanced side by side to the dais. Aoth s bow was deep enough to show respect, but no deeper. She copied it as best she could.

So, the spirit said. Interesting. Two mortals, both reborn in fire of one sort or another.

I didn t tell Zyl about that particular part of my past, Aoth replied. You fey are good at seeing what lies under the surface. Or else you ve heard of me.

The Stag King grinned. So close, his massive frame had a musky smell, pungent but not unpleasant. I d be a poor host if I said I hadn t heard of you, wouldn t I, Aoth Fezim, and so bruised your pride? he said. But then, I m a poor host anyway, offering no refreshment. He clapped his hands and called out in Elvish, Mulled cider for our guests!

It only took a moment for a female to enter through an archway carrying steaming earthenware goblets on a tray. The cups didn t all match.

Aoth shot Jhesrhi a warning glance, a reminder she didn t need. When she, the war mage, and the Stag King had each taken a cup and pledged one another, she only pretended to sip.

But apparently she or Aoth didn t pretend well enough, because the Stag King cocked his head and asked, Isn t the brew to your taste?

It might be pleasant, said Aoth, to spend a hundred years in revelry that would pass like a single night for us. But our business won t wait.

The hulking spirit laughed. It occurred to Jhesrhi that the action might have set the bells in his antlers chiming except that, as she observed, he didn t have any. Perhaps, since he possessed the ability to speak, unlike his subjects, he saw no need for them.

Evidently, he said, the two of you have heard your share of nursery fables and tavern tales.

Aoth shrugged. A person can only act on the basis of whatever information comes his way, he said. That s why you re fortunate that Lady Coldcreek, Zyl, and I are here today. We have important tidings to share.

Tilting back his head, and so clicking his antlers on the back of his throne, the Stag King drank from his cup and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Yes, he said. My trusty spy said the durthans have risen to resume their old quarrel with the hathrans, this time with new allies. But should that concern me? I helped the hathrans once. It entertained me. But who s to say it would do so a second time?

As I understand it, said Aoth, most dark fey sided with the durthans. Even though the fomorian lady you sent Zyl to spy on wasn t all that keen on the idea, it s a safe bet that many will again. And if they defeat the hathrans and the Iron Lord, isn t it likely that they ll want to settle old scores? You d be wiser to fight them now, before they build any more strength, and before they kill the folk who are willing to stand with you.

The Stag King grunted. Perhaps, he said. Or maybe, now that the hathrans have mighty wizards like you and the lady here to help them, my assistance is unnecessary. Or perhaps I ll simply go away, deep into the Feywild where no old foe will ever find me. He waved a hand in a gesture that encompassed the hall. You see the dreariness that passes for my court. My blood may have been a little too potent.

Jhesrhi scowled. You d forsake your own children? she asked. Abandon them to suffer and die without you?

The spirit grinned. Forgive me if, for whatever reason, that pierces to the quick. he said. But perhaps it doesn t have to be that way. I might be amenable to marching off to war if someone was willing to make it worth my while.