A Hero Born

by Michael A. Stackpole

  The man-thing dexter-slashed a toothy smile across the lower half of his face. “So you know Roarke, do you? You’ll find him down there. Whatever your business, be quick about it.”

  “Thank you, sir. Best of the new year to you, sir.”

  He snarled in response to my greeting, but retreated quickly enough as Cruach’s ears came forward, and the hound swung his head around to look up the stairs. I patted Cruach heartily on his right shoulder, then scratched under his chin. “And the best of the new year to you, too, Cruach. Now, where’s Roarke?”

  Cruach, being an intelligent hound, and having heard his master’s name more than once, turned and trotted down the steps to the first level below the street. He looked back to see 1 was following him, then trotted on deeper into the room. Despite plunging directly into a sea of round tables distributed in an utterly random pattern, Cruach’s tall silver back remained in sight like a ghost ship sailing through an archipelago.

  I followed his course as best I could, though various individuals shifted their benches to make my progress difficult. 1 heard the words “hatchling” and “virgin” muttered more than once, and from a host of throats barely suited to mouthing human speech. Many of the Chaos Riders appeared to be little more than misshapen figures hidden by thick cloaks, and fairly often 1 saw two or more Chaosfire-fired eyes staring out at me from hoods. The words and glances and actions told me 1 was not wanted here, and that most of them wanted nothing more than to have me break and run.

  Virgin I might be in the ways of Chaos, but being intimidated by hostility was a habit of which my brother Dalt had long ago broken me. I kept my head high and worked my way through the crowd as best 1 could. I avoided touching people when possible, and politely slipped past the impromptu barricades raised to impede me.

  Without too much delay I found my way back to a distant table where Roarke sat with his typical grin plastered on his face. “Welcome to the Umbra, Locke.” He sat back in his chair, his motions obviously lubricated by whatever lurked beneath the froth in his tankard. “You came to Herakopolis to attend the Emperor’s Ball. By the look of your clothes either you missed it, or my invite misstated the requisite color scheme.”

  “A little of both, actually, 1 think.” 1 lowered myself onto a bench, then nodded to Eirene as she sat down across from me. “Joyous new year to you, Eirene.”

  “And you, Locke.” She set a tankard down in front of me, then took a sip from its twin. “So, is it true what they say happened at the ball tonight?”

  I wrapped my hands around the steaming tankard and tried to suppress a shiver. “It depends up on what they say happened. It certainly was a Bear’s Eve Ball I will never forget.” The drink smelled like hot spiced cider, but I sipped it carefully in case it was something else entirely.

  Roarke laughed easily. “The way the word filtered down here, Lord Disaster and a horde of Bfiarasfiadi lighted in the midst of the ball and slew the lot of nobles there. Said they burned the palace, too, but I have some doubt about that as I can’t see the glow from here.”

  I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “Fialchar did show up, and he had the Staff of Emeterio with him.”

  Eirene tucked a green-streaked lock of hair behind one of her pointed ears. “The Staff of Emeterio? I don’t think I know of it.”

  Roarke waved her to silence. “It’s a trinket of some power, but that’s not the whole of the story, is it, Locke?”

  “No, not by half.” I kept my voice quiet. “At the same time a Bfiarasfiadi sorcerer and some Black Churchers managed to steal the Fistfire Sceptre from the Imperial Treasury Vault below the palace.”

  Eirene’s expression closed up, and she sipped at her cider to mask her face. Roarke frowned as if willing himself to clearheadedness. “Locke, that can’t be. No Bfiarasfiadi sorcerer could be inside the Ward Walls.”

  I unbuttoned the cuff of my tunic and pulled the sleeve back to show them my bandage. “He used a spell to try to kill me, and by luck alone I survived. I saw him, Roarke. Sure, I’ve only seen Black Shadows in my dreams, but this one matched every description of them I’ve heard.”

  “First time I’ve heard the word dream used to describe seeing Black Shadows in your sleep.” Eirene shook her head. “Sensible folks call them nightmares.”

  I nodded. “You have the right of it, Eirene. I fear I will see this one in many a nightmare.” I pulled the Imperial Medallions from the pouch on my belt and placed one each in front of them. “The Emperor believes the Black Shadows will use the sceptre to stage an invasion of the Empire. He wants an expedition to go into Chaos to stop the invasion, or delay things enough for the Warlord to field an army that can stop them.”

  Eirene stared at the coin as if it was a snake coiled to strike at her. “An Imperial expedition? How many of us are there?”

  1 winced. “Twelve, counting my cousin and me. He’s a scout with the Emperor’s Horse Guards. He will have his patrol, and I am to recruit five people to go with us. We can have thirteen with Cruach.”

  Roarke raised a finger. “Not a good idea to be mentioning thirteen as the number in your little venture, Locke. Fialchar was the thirteenth person involved with the Seal of Reality, and he shattered it, so thirteen is not seen as very auspicious.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Superstition isn’t what’s bothering me.” Eirene pushed the medallion back in my direction. “A dozen people going into Chaos to put a stop to a Bharasfiadi invasion? Locke, in the event someone has hidden this information from you, that is exactly the sort of mission that got your father killed, and the Valiant Lancers numbered a dozen dozen.” Eirene glanced over at Roarke. “As for him, even drunk he would not go back into Chaos. It cost him too much last time.”

  I looked over at Roarke, dreading his confirmation of Eirene’s statement. He looked shocked and had paled considerably. Cruach forced his head between Roarke’s right hand and his body, but the man just let his arm dangle by the beast’s flank. “Roarke?”

  He swallowed hard. “It’s about the Necroleum, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. How do you know about it?”

  He shook his head. “I know because I know.”

  I watched him carefully. The Emperor had said they had learned of the Necroleum from the fevered ravings of a Chaos Rider. I wondered for a moment if that rider had been Roarke. “If you know of the Necroleum, you know how important this is. With the Fistfire Sceptre it’s possible to raise all the Bharashadi from the dead. If that gets done …”

  “I have a grasp of the general scenario, Locke.” Roarke picked up the medallion I’d set before him and spun it around between forefinger and thumb. “Been a long time since I’ve had one of these in my hand.” His fist closed over it. “I’m in.”

  Eirene drew back away from him. “Roarke, are you crazy? You said you would never go back.”

  “No, Eirene, I said I’d only go back if the objective was worth going blind for. If the Bharashadi get the Fistfire Sceptre to the Necroleum, everyone will become Chaos Riders. I reckon this is the quest that I’ve been waiting for.” He pushed her medallion back toward her. “Come on, Eirene, you’re too pretty to want to live till old age will take you, and too damned spiteful to die in the Empire.”

  She picked the medallion up and hefted it in her right hand. “I’ll go, Roarke, but only so I know the truth behind the bragging you’ll be doing when we return. If we return.”

  The one-eyed Chaos Rider beamed at her. “That’s the spirit, Eirene.”

  I grabbed Roarke’s right wrist. “The Emperor wants us to convince Lord Disaster to let us use the Staff of Emeterio to stop the Bharashadi from raising their dead.”

  Eirene coughed down some cider. “And there’s to be only a dozen of us?”

  Roarke wrinkled his nose. “Thetys is more cautious than his father. Daclones would only have sent ten— maybe eight if he knew Cruach was coming. How many more of those medallions do you have, Locke?”

  “Three.” I held my hand out, an
d he plucked two of them from my palm.

  “Keep the last because we’ll want someone from the Church of the Sunbird, and they always jump at the chance to please the Emperor. We might even get two.”

  “That would be a big help.”

  “Indeed. And now to find bigger help.” Roarke stood and hooked his index and little fingers between his lips. He let go with a powerful whistle that made me cover my ears and wrung a yowl from Cruach. The Umbra’s din dropped to silence, and, except for a lunatic cackle rising and falling from below us, it remained quiet.

  Roarke flipped one of the medallions in the air and casually caught it. He looked up and smiled when he found himself to be the center of attention. “I’ve news for all that’s likely to mark the rest of the year, so listen good. Seems the Emperor had a visit this night from Lord Ugly himself. Disrupted the ball, Fialchar did, and was right impolite to the lords and ladies there. Thetys wants a delegation of us to go and explain to Fialchar proper conduct at an Imperial Ball.”

  Roarke smiled slyly and let shouted gibes slide past without reply. “The difficult part of this mission is that the Emperor has also angered the Bharashadi, and they’re likely to make our passage less than comfortable. Not to worry too much, though, because this here is Lachlan, Cardew’s son. His cousin, Driscoll’s son, is with the Emperor’s Horse Guards and will be bringing his patrol, too. I would deal with this alone, mind you, but there’s always firewood that needs chopping and the occasional Chademon that wants for killing.”

  Laughter and more biting comments ripped through the crowd. The unfocused hostility I felt before had slackened with Roarke’s identifying me. A couple of people nodded in my direction, and I heard my father’s name bandied about in whispers and croaks. I wasn’t openly accepted because of my heritage, but it brought me to neutral in the minds of many, and the change made me grin.

  Roarke flipped one of the two medallions at a huge figure seated three tables away. A hand moved swiftly to catch the metal disc, and I heard a sound like that of a coin striking stone. The Chaos Rider stood slowly but could not straighten up all the way without hitting his head on the ceiling. Instantly I saw he was a Reptiad like Baron Sali’uz, but the light glinted off his scaly hide as if his flesh was made of mica.

  “Nagrendra, 1 want you with me. Can you think of a better way to start a year?”

  “If it calls you to Chaos, Roarke, it will be quite an adventure.” The Reptiad nodded slowly. “I will pay my respects to Lord Disaster and see if Jhesti left him any beard.”

  Roarke tossed the other medallion out toward one person, but another shot from a chair and pulled it down. The intended target grabbed the interloper’s wrist, but the interloper pulled his hand free, then jerked his elbow back into the face of Roarke’s target. I heard a sharp crack, then a moan and the sound of a body sliding to the floor.

  Roarke frowned as the man who caught the medallion walked toward us. He held the disc like a talisman out in front of him. Cfiaosfire filled his eyes and looked out at me from the eye sockets of the wolf-skull that formed his cowl.

  “I am Tyrchon.” He slapped the medallion down on the table and looked straight at me. “1 asked your father to let me accompany him on what was his last mission. He told me I was too young to die.” The man folded well-muscled arms across a broadly built chest. “1 believe 1 have aged enough since then.” He half growled his words and attracted Cruach’s attention.

  As he spoke 1 found it easy to imagine him much younger and brasher. I could see my father smiling at his offer, but sending him away because his foray was too dangerous for so young and inexperienced a fighter. Tyrchon had missed his chance with my father, and thought himself fortunate enough to have a second opportunity with me.

  I looked over at Roarke. “What do you think?”

  He shrugged. “The Emperor gave the medallions to you, not me.”

  Tyrchon looked at Roarke. “I have been on many expeditions to Chaos. I have spent much time there. 1

  have slain many Chademons: Bharashadi, T svortu, Drasacor, Hobmotli. 1 have found much in Chaos and brought it back.”

  Roarke yawned. “Aside from Locke here, there’s no one in this place who couldn’t say the same for himself.”

  Tyrchon nodded slowly. “Well said. With me along, though, we will not be surprised by the enemy. They may hide, but not from me.”

  Eirene looked up at him. “That’s a tall claim. Prove

  it.”

  “Gladly.” Tyrchon raised his hands to encompass everyone in the room. “Ask any of them what they have seen of me in Chaos.”

  Roarke looked around the room. “Can anyone verify his claims?”

  Dead silence answered the question.

  1 frowned and placed my hand over the medallion. “It would seem, Tyrchon, your claims go unsubstantiated.”

  Roarke smiled and tapped me on the shoulder. “Don’t be so hasty, Locke.”

  “But no one was able to back him up.”

  “Right, which means he travels in Chaos alone.”

  Eirene nodded. “And to do that you have to be very good or you get very dead.”

  Tyrchon folded his arms across his chest. “And I’m not dead.”

  I held the medallion up to Tyrchon. “Let’s see to it you stay that way. I would be honored if you would join us.”

  I swear the ears on his cowl twitched as he took the coin from my hand. “I will settle my affairs and meet you tomorrow.”

  He turned away and I noticed the wolfskin did not

  move freely. I stared after him, then turned to Roarke. “That cloak, that cowl. Are they part of him?”

  “Things like that happen in Chaos, Locke.” He gave me a broad smile. “Be careful what you decide to wear, because you could be wearing it for a long time.”

  17

  J

  hesti the Lost Prince. Gavin Madhand. Scarlet Elk. Mira Vilewolf. My father. My uncle. The list of Imperial heroes was long, and their exploits were impressive. I had always dreamed of joining that august company, but never did I imagine I would be given an opportunity to do so quite this soon in my life. 1 had secretly hungered for the day when Cardew would be remembered as my father instead of me always being described as his son, but had anyone suggested i would participate in an expedition going into Chaos before I’d reached a full score years, I would have considered them insane.

  And i was insane for going, but that seemed appropriate because this whole business was insane. A Chaos demon in the capital, Lord Disaster disrupting the Bear’s Eve Ball—none of it made sense. In fact, it violated the tenets of reality as far as I was concerned. Can I be insane if the measuring stick for reality and sanity has been this badly broken?

  As I returned to my grandmother’s home I got to watch the sun rise from the ocean and send the first rosy rays out to paint the thin clouds. That certainly seemed normal enough, but I suspected that would be my only brush with normalcy over the next week. I clung to it, using it as an omen that not everything had changed, and that we might be able to put things right again.

  If we couldn’t, the red in the clouds would be from the burning of Imperial cities by Black Shadow invaders.

  The presence of a Chaos demon in the capital was known only to a few very trusted individuals, and I trusted Eirene and Roarke as much as the Emperor trusted me. We all assumed that the Bharashadi had either left the capital immediately after his theft had been discovered, or that he was still in the city hiding with members of the Black Church. To announce this to everyone, however, would have started a panic that quite probably would have resulted in riots and vigilante slayings of anyone even remotely suspected of being a Black Churcher, so attempts to uncover his location had to be made carefully.

  Lord Disaster’s coincidental visit gave the Emperor the excuse to lock the city up tight. He started, using a rumor that Lord Disaster had not really appeared at the ball, but that it had been some renegade magicker trained in Chaos as his apprentice. The visitation
had been part of a plan, heralds reported, to demoralize the Empire. The Emperor announced his intention to find the culprits and make them pay.

  Immediate and harsh security measures were put in place. The city gates were closed, and people were let in and out only after strict searches by soldiers and sorcerers in the Imperial service. Heavily armed patrols headed out from the capital to comb the surrounding area for the demon and to set up a cordon he would have a difficult time negotiating. All shipping was blockaded, and orders were given to sink any ship that did not allow itself to be boarded and searched.

  As my head hit the pillow, I said a silent prayer that the patrols would find and destroy the Bharashadi sorcerer before he reached Chaos. That would make everything so much easier, even if it meant 1 would have to wait to become a hero. Given the nature of our mission, having to develop the virtue of patience was something I found infinitely preferable to dying in Chaos.

  lames entered my room and awakened me just past midday. An Imperial messenger had arrived and conveyed to me an invitation to visit with the Emperor within the hour. I washed quickly and dressed myself in the clothes the Emperor had lent me the previous night. I was all set to head out immediately when I realized I’d not seen my grandmother since before Lord Disaster appeared and that I wanted to make certain the previous night’s excitement had not taken its toll on her health.

  I headed up to the solar and found her dozing there as I had on the day of my arrival. She sat there, bathed in sunbeams, with a blanket covering her legs. Needlework lay in her lap, and a faint smile twisted the corners of her mouth.

  I started into the room to wake her gently, then stopped. She looked so pleased and content that I chose not to disturb her. She had watched her sons march off into combat many times, and on the last of these they had not returned. Now their sons, her grandsons, were going to be sent on a mission similar to the one that had killed her sons. To wake her up and inform her of that news would be unforgivable, so 1 backed slowly out of the doorway.