‘Of course!’ Karadrek hissed, his pale eyes flashing. ‘How else? Tell me, how else? Do you not work with them?’
‘No!’ Ashurek exclaimed vehemently. He felt like striking Karadrek; only the shameful memory of how recently he had bargained with a demon stopped him. ‘I was in their power once, as you know. But I forsook that evil, although it cost me dear.’
‘More fool you,’ Karadrek said coldly. ‘Prince Ashurek, listen to me; there was no other way I could achieve what I wanted. I could not stay with the army; they hated me for what had happened. I saw that thanks to you fleeing – thanks to Meshurek’s inept rule! – the Empire was falling apart. My only hope was to disappear and to hide. After long months of travelling I came to this godforsaken village where I knew I would never be discovered. Here I decided what to do.’
Ashurek listened in growing despair. Karadrek, as he had feared, was in the grip of at least one Shanin, perhaps more.
‘The villagers were not happy at my arrival,’ he continued. ‘They loathe Gorethrians upon the west coast almost as much as upon the east. I should not have been surprised, of course. They nearly killed me, then imprisoned me, then tried to murder me again. Meheg-Ba could not help me, because he was with Meshurek. But he instructed me in how to summon another demon to my aid. The villagers have been no trouble since then.’
‘I’m sure they haven’t,’ Ashurek whispered, feeling sick with fury at the plight of the villagers, whose dull apathy was a clear sign of the Shana’s influence.
‘The Shanin gave me power, made sure I was acknowledged as their master and then advised me upon what to do. I had the villagers build me this manor, and the quay, and then I started them upon the ships. Soon they will form my army and navy.’
Karadrek paused, smiling like a hyena. Village men and women stood gazing at him; all looked thin, wretched, eaten by a fear they had forgotten how to fight. Demons pretended to create power, but all they could truly bring was decay. It was as though the villagers felt that the sight of Ashurek had put a seal upon their fate.
The sense of the Serpent and its acolytes came strongly to Ashurek then. Neyrwin had been right. Tearn was sliding ever more deeply into its power, and Karadrek was just another instrument in its design.
‘Your army? What do you mean?’ Ashurek asked, trying to suppress his emotions and sound genuinely curious. One of the Shana’s effects upon their human slaves was to erode their perceptiveness and judgment, rendering them unstable, dangerous, and yet strangely naïve.
‘I am going to sail back to Gorethria. Home! I hate it here; I wish to go home,’ said Karadrek, pulling at his gloved hand with his living one. ‘I hear Shalekahh is racked by strife over who is now rightfully in power, while the Empire falls about their ears. I shall end all that. I, and my army, and the Shanin, and the Amphisbaena. We will put all to rights, and I shall rule. What say you to that, your Highness?’
Karadrek’s eyes were glittering palely with manic ambition. Ashurek took in the meaning of what he had said, reflecting bitterly that his second-in-command had not changed, merely become more transparent.
‘You always… wanted that power, didn’t you?’ he said carefully.
‘By the gods! You should know it, Prince Ashurek!’ was the impassioned response. ‘Did I not advise you, plead with you to take the throne? I wanted the power for you, not for myself! My loyalty was always to you!’
He tugged at Ashurek’s arm, now drawing him inside the doorway of the hut. An extraordinary scent met them, sweet yet redolent of mindless, malevolent power. A lambent glow danced on the ceiling and walls like a reflection of rhythmically moving water.
‘Now come in here and look,’ said Karadrek.
There were several men and women in the hut, kneeling erect with their hands dangling at their sides, their eyes glassy as they stared unblinking at a strange creature.
‘This is the Amphisbaena,’ Karadrek whispered.
It sprawled on a dais in the centre of a hut: a two-headed, tentacled creature twice the size of an ox. Ashurek stared at it with a mixture of repulsion and amazement. It was extraordinarily beautiful. Its heads were long and slender, eyeless, forever questing the air, while its smooth tentacles were perpetually curling and intertwining with an underwater grace. The body was pure white and luminous, yet waves of colour, consisting of masses of blue, red and green spots, swept continually along its skin. The pulsing rhythm was hypnotic, beautiful, fatally entrancing.
Ashurek realised that this was a temple and the people around him were worshipping the eerie beast. He felt an intense longing to join them, a force pushing his knees to the ground. Disgust flooded him and he lurched away from Karadrek and out of the hut.
‘What is wrong?’ said Karadrek’s soft, dry voice beside him.
‘Explain to me what that thing is,’ he said tightly.
‘It is the Amphisbaena. The Shanin gave it to me.’
‘It is a creature of the Serpent.’
‘Why do you sound so concerned? You helped the demons yourself. You carried the Egg-Stone. This is only another stage in the same plan.’
‘But they are worshipping it! It has rendered them mindless! Karadrek, as evil as Gorethria was, it was always our way to give our opponents a fair fighting chance. This is nothing of the sort. This is unfair. It’s appalling, horrific.’
Karadrek shrugged. ‘Times have changed. Let me explain. The demon is too busy to be with me all the time. Therefore I was given the Amphisbaena, which inspires fear and obeisance. Through the beast I control them.’ Seeing Ashurek’s expression of loathing, he added, ‘It may not be the Gorethrian way, but it is expedient. When the ships are ready, I shall set sail – the villagers to crew the ships, the Shanin to help us, the Amphisbaena to create the fear and loyalty we need to enable us to take power in Shalekahh... but your Highness, you are here now! I know that Meshurek is dead; the demon itself told me. This means that you are now rightfully Emperor!’ Karadrek spoke as if this were a revelation, the culmination of his dreams.
‘Aye. That’s correct,’ Ashurek said drily.
‘But – does it mean nothing to you? Why have you not gone back to claim the throne? Perhaps you have been unable to find a way,’ Karadrek speculated, carried away by his dreams. ‘But you have found me now – I have a way, I have laid it all out before you, I am offering it to you! It’s as though it was predestined, and I did not know it! Oh, I have hope, real hope, that you are changing your point of view; after all, it is not too late. Why else should we have met like this?’
Ashurek looked at Karadrek in astonishment.
‘I cannot believe this. Are you saying that after making all these careful plans for yourself, you would relinquish your power to me? Even after what has transpired between us?’
‘Yes!’ Karadrek exclaimed, the burning of his eyes making him more hawk-like than ever. ‘It was the only thing I ever wanted. You as Emperor. This is what my plan has been missing. You, Prince Ashurek.’
He realised then that Karadrek was sincere. The man’s a born second-in-command, he thought, and then he understood that the betrayal and the atrocities in Drish had originated out of Karadrek’s bitter disappointment at Ashurek’s refusal to usurp Meshurek. Nurtured by the Shana, of course.
Ashurek stood very still, watching the black swirling of baneful emotions within himself as if they were physical realities, while everything else had ceased to exist. Vaguely, as if from a great distance, he saw men and women filing out of the temple-hut, and others moving woodenly in to take their turn at worshipping the creature of the Serpent. This is sick, he was thinking. He saw his sister die screaming on his blade and his brother falling towards a red-hot lava crust, and they were screaming and falling forever. This is hell, and Miril is dead.
Once, long ago, he had felt love, respect, and comradeship for Karadrek. Such feelings could never be totally eradicated.
‘Well, your Highness?’ A voice at his side roused him from his black thoughts. ‘What
say you?’
‘This,’ Ashurek said quietly. ‘Your plan is madness. It is a delusion.’
‘What do you mean?’ Karadrek’s tone was guarded, as if he could not countenance a refusal. ‘You cannot, you must not make a hasty decision.’
‘I never coveted the throne. I want it even less now. I never want to return to Gorethria again.’
Karadrek glowered at him, angry and disbelieving. ‘I thought – I thought Meshurek’s demise would have brought you to your senses, made you see that I had been right from the beginning.’ His voice rose and there was grief mingled with his fury. ‘I was always loyal to you! The most faithful of your Generals! I saw that Meshurek was unfit to rule and that for Gorethria’s sake, you should have taken the throne. Even in Drish, I did what I did for your sake, because compassion had overcome your good judgement, and the Drishians would have made fools of us all! Everything I did was for you and for Gorethria. And in reward for my pains, I get – this!’ He held up the artificial hand in its brocaded glove, brandishing it like an accusation of treason. ‘And the loss of the Empire. And exile to this forsaken hole. I hold you to blame, Prince Ashurek. I always acted for Gorethria. You only ever acted for yourself!’
‘Perhaps you are right. Gorethria’s collapse is more my fault than anyone’s; I do not deny my guilt. But then,’ Ashurek’s voice was level and his eyes were dangerous, ‘I had come to understand that Gorethria is evil. She deserves everything that is happening to her. Perhaps she even deserves you and the Amphisbaena.’
‘You’re talking like a fool!’
‘I don’t expect you to understand. But try to believe this. Your plan to take power in Shalekahh is a delusion, because the demon is not helping you; it is using you.’
‘That is nonsense! I summoned it; it works for me!’
‘You sound exactly like Meshurek,’ Ashurek sighed.
‘You compare me with your brother?’ Karadrek exclaimed contemptuously. ‘He was an idiot!’
‘Those who summon demons are often intelligent men, not realising how foolish they have been until it is too late. My brother summoned Meheg-Ba to increase his power. It seemed a clever idea to him. But the Shanin gave him nothing. It used him and it leached everything from him, even his reason. It was pathetic beyond the reach of grief.’ Ashurek could not keep the feeling out of his voice. ‘I see the same thing happening to you. It began the moment you craved the power of the Egg-Stone, and spoke with Meheg-Ba. You can never hope to fulfil your dreams. The demon will use you to continue extending the Serpent’s chaos over the Earth, and when it has reduced you to a husk it will imprison you in the Dark Regions. Just as it did with Meshurek.’
‘You’re lying!’ said Karadrek lamely, his eyes glassy with fear.
‘It is the simple truth.’
‘How can I escape it?’ he cried, his hand closing like an iron claw on Ashurek’s arm. Ashurek was taken aback. He had not expected this sudden, desperate plea for help. But before he could take advantage of it, Karadrek drew back, his eyes hard again.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I forget how you have betrayed your country. I cannot trust you, your Highness. So if you will not agree to help, you must be forced. This is what the demon would advise.’ He gestured with his gloved hand and Ashurek put his hand on his sword hilt, sensing the movement of men behind him. ‘More than that, it is your duty. You owe it to Gorethria and to me!’
Without warning Ashurek drew his sword and swung around, slashing the arm of a villager. The others, who had been poised to capture him, fell back out of his range. All looked terrified and he knew they would not dare to approach him again.
Immediately Karadrek drew his own blade, shouting angrily at the villagers not to be such cowardly fools.
‘Prince Ashurek, please don’t make it necessary for me to kill you,’ he said, his expression desperate. ‘We need you.’
Ashurek only shook his head, his mouth set in a grim line. ‘It doesn’t matter whether you listen to me or not, General Karadrek,’ he said so faintly that Karadrek did not catch the words. ‘There’s only one way for you to be rid of the Shanin...’
He and Karadrek began to circle one another. Both were highly skilled swordsmen, having had the finest training the Gorethrian Army could provide. They had often fought each other before, though only in mock combat. Their blades clashed and they began to move into the familiar rhythm of sword-play.
Ashurek knew it was likely to be a long drawn out fight, and one he did not relish. Then he noticed that Karadrek was muttering as he fought, and he recognised the ancient Gorethrian tongue.
Karadrek was summoning his demon.
As always, the words filled Ashurek with cold, strength-sapping horror. There was a terrible pressure on his skull, and his mouth was full of cobwebs.
As soon as the demon materialised, Ashurek knew that he would be disarmed and bound in an instant. He had evaded the Shana once too often; they certainly would not permit him to escape again. He could not let the summoning be completed, and there was only one way to prevent it.
The air shimmered and groaned. Animals were squealing in fear and stampeding around their enclosures, sensing the evil aura before the humans did. There was a moment of pressure so intense that it seemed the very atmosphere would fracture – and a perfect, leering silver figure stepped out of nowhere.
Ashurek saw an opening and lunged desperately at Karadrek’s stomach. It was a risk – he could have miscalculated and impaled himself on Karadrek’s sword. But he did not. His weapon met its mark and drove up into his compatriot’s heart.
Karadrek, eyes and mouth gaping with shock, slid slowly off the blade with a soft rasping noise and lay dead, blood welling over his chest.
The demon, roaring with rage, was sucked back to its own Region.
Ashurek leaned on his sword, staring at Karadrek’s body. Now he had killed again, adding the blood of a former friend to that of his family. He felt stained from head to foot, as damnable as the Serpent itself. He was cursing silently, bitterly. Karadrek had had to die; a demon could only be banished by the death of the summoner. That was the bitter lesson he had learned with Meshurek. But this knowledge was no consolation. It did not make him feel any less stricken, less black with guilt.
Slowly he cleaned his blade and re sheathed it.
‘That was not for myself,’ he murmured. ‘That was for the Drishians, General Karadrek.’
He turned and made for his horse, oblivious to the men and women standing around him, staring. A man came running up to him, the thin, nervous one who had first spoken to him on the quay.
‘Sir – sir, what’s happened, what does this mean?’ he cried.
‘It’s over. Your master is dead and the demon will trouble you no more. You won’t have to sail to Gorethria; in fact I’d advise you to burn those caravels,’ Ashurek said brusquely, brushing his hand away.
The man caught hold of his cloak and followed him.
‘But, sir,’ he persisted, looking more distressed than ever. ‘The–’ he waved a hand at the temple-hut. Angered, Ashurek stopped and looked back.
Even as he turned, there were shouts of terror from within the hut. Seconds later the Amphisbaena came undulating out of the entrance, its heads wagging blindly in the air, the colours pulsing rapidly along its form. Its two mouths were gaping wide, revealing not teeth, but powerful ridges of muscle designed to crush and suck the flesh from its prey. They glistened crimson with the blood of its worshippers.
He should have realised. Karadrek – or the demon – had exerted some control over the creature. Now it was unrestrained, directionless – except for its Serpent-given need to destroy.
Shouting a warning, Ashurek sprinted towards it. The villagers did not even move. At the sight of it, fear left their eyes and they became ensorcelled, some dropping to their knees and others prostrating themselves in the mud. The beast was among them at once, crushing their limbs, torsos and heads in its merciless mouth. Some groaned as they died, and so
me made no sound at all.
By the time Ashurek reached it, some fifteen of them were dead. With a howl of battle-lust he unsheathed his sword. The blade rang discordantly as it curved through the air. He held it two-handed, bringing it down onto one of the Amphisbaena’s necks and hacking until the head fell with strings of flesh and viscid blood whipping after it. The Amphisbaena began to make a dreadful keening noise that made Ashurek long to drop the sword and block his ears.
The remaining head wove back and forth, jaws opening and closing. He could see the rippling of the muscle ridges and he knew that once the mouth closed upon his arm or leg, he would never prise himself out of that deadly grip. Waves of colour beat frantically along its body and its tentacles were entwining themselves around his ankles. He almost lost his balance, extricating his feet just in time. Swinging the sword, he caught the Amphisbaena across the side of the head.
It screamed like a child and lurched towards him, the colours of its skin changing madly. Ashurek struck again, chopping repeatedly at its neck. Its blood spattered him. It is not going to die, he thought.
Then, all at once, it was over. The Amphisbaena’s second head was severed, and as the creature subsided lifeless to the ground its whole body flashed black, then pale luminous green. The tentacles continued to jerk convulsively for several seconds.
Ashurek stood back with the creature’s milky blood running down his face like tears. He scrubbed the stuff away, gasping with a mixture of exertion and horror at the preventable deaths of those poor men and women.
The creature’s strange body lay before him in a smooth, pale mound, the lovely hypnotic colours gone. Around him the rest of the villagers seemed to be returning to their senses. Some were weeping, others clinging to each other. But still they all seemed afraid to approach him.
A Blackbird In Darkness (Book 2) Page 19
