Doom-Quest of Ara-Karn 2 The Divine Queen

by Adam Corby

  ‘Bravo Gundoen,’ she murmured.

  ‘Your majesty may jest at this, as should we all, who are risen above such superstition. Yet to the rude barbarians, this was a grave offense on the chief’s part. The Pious One in particular forecast evil of it; and shortly thereafter, as if in response to his words, a terrible storm wracked the coastlines, and all were sure it was Goddess’s rebuking of Gundoen’s blasphemy.

  ‘Great was the damage wrought of this storm on their village; and no sooner did it end but there came by coincidence an eclipse of Goddess, which they hold to herald monstrous events. According to their custom they hastened to the beach to cry prayers to Goddess not to forsake them, and recall Her to Her duties, that She not be seduced by the rough violence of God and pass away with Him, to be His couch-mate in His palace of black beyond the dark horizon, where only His Madpriests live to do Him hateful worship, such as is writ down in the Book of Skhel. Well. I mention all this, great Queen, only that your majesty may yourself perceive the atmosphere of terror and awe into which the stranger, thereafter known only as Ara-Karn, stepped.

  ‘For even in the midst of the eclipse, a solitary black death-barge was washed into the bay and driven up ashore. A strange barge of curious workmanship it was, certainly like nothing ever wrought of barbarian hands. Somehow it seemed ancient beyond telling. And there within that barge lay the corpse of one that looked like a great king of some long-vanished age. Yet it was no corpse, for it rose, and stepped from the barge upon the pebbles of the shore, in rags of ancient finery, and wearing upon its brow a golden circlet, of an art rare beyond any I have seen. Such, your majesty, was the first appearance known among men, of him they call Ara-Karn – which is to signify in their tongue, “the Former King.” ’

  She frowned. This was not the story of some posturer. It was too improbable to be a fable. ‘What do you mean, sir? Do you not mean that this was his first arrival at that particular village?’

  ‘That village, the far North and, for all I know, the entire extent of the lands where men dwell, your majesty. Ara-Karn did not spring from the loins of any barbarian, man or woman; nor was he native to any land I have ever visited, or my father before me. When first he stood there, he knew no word of the barbarians’ tongue – or, for that matter, any tongue I know. Gundoen bade us question him, but he remained dumb to all our attempts, finally speaking only in a language utterly alien and grating to our ears.’

  ‘What land, then, formed his origin?’

  ‘Alas, your majesty, that I cannot even guess, unless it be the Darklands of the Madpriests. He must have been lost at sea, somehow, after stealing the strange barge; but Arpane on the Sea is the only city of the Ocean of the Dead, and we have been there, but found no clue to the origin of the madman. Yet even at the earliest it was clear he was a desperate character, driven half-mad by deprivation in the weeks he had been at sea; it is in some ways a miracle he survived at all.’

  ‘What then of his strange weapon, the bow?’ she asked.

  ‘Why, it was with him in the strange death-barge, your majesty, along with much wealth of gold and jewels; but all the wealth he threw back into the sea as if it had been accurst; and kept only the bow and arrows, and a jade dagger he had. Even his rags he threw away, going naked among them until the Pious One, who exalted him the instrument of Goddess, clothed him after the manner of the tribe. Shortly after, the hunters went upon the great Hunt for bandar; Ara-Karn went with them, and we saw him little after that. With the many pelts we returned to Gerso.

  ‘There rumors reached us, of a great restlessness in the far North, of war brewed between Gundoen’s tribe and the Orns, another powerful tribe ruled over by Gen-Karn, who was then the Warlord of the far North. Then that winter, all the tribes were still again, and no war broke out among them. We knew not what to make of it, save to be thankful that the violence had been put off a further year, so that our trade for bandar pelts should not yet be interrupted. In the weeks between that winter and the following spring the barbarians fell upon our city, burnt her and broke her and left only her ashes upon the desecrated ground. And that, your majesty, was the start of all these bitter doings.’

  Allissál heard him out with a deepening sense of unease – unease, because she feared she must believe him after all. From the beginning, the leaders of the civilized cities had planned and acted upon the belief that this Ara-Karn was no other than some armed, ferocious brigand, a pillager after spoil. It was no wonder that he had so outgeneraled them.

  ‘Yet you have overlooked the most important matter,’ she said at length: ‘for if Ara-Karn is not of the barbarian race, what then does he look like?’

  ‘Your majesty, that indeed is the hardest question for me to answer. We saw him but a handful of times, and of course, our memories are clouded by later events. He was not short, and not unhandsome, and he was not like any barbarian.’

  ‘It is well,’ she replied shortly. ‘Now, having told us what he is not, perhaps you will be so good as to tell us what he is.’

  ‘Divine One, forgiveness. His hair and flesh were dark, he wore a short beard, he was slender but of hard lean sinews, and refined, even noble, features. Yet I beg your majesty’s pardon, for that is all I can remember of him.’

  ‘Your majesty, I remember something else,’ said the younger merchant. ‘It was an odd thing, but I have never forgotten it. It was – his eyes.’

  ‘What of his eyes?’

  ‘Great Queen, they were – strange. Unlike any other eyes I have ever seen. They flashed like greenish lightning sometimes, and other times were dark and dead as dried fruit pits. Whenever he looked at me, it was as if to burn me, so fierce was his gaze. Not another man in a hundred thousand could have such eyes. He had beheld monstrous things, and when he gazed at me, I saw those things as well. They are all I can recall of him: but those eyes of his I have seen in a score of ill dreams since I last saw them in the flesh. Your majesty, they were eyes such as only Madpriests are said to possess.’

  She spoke not for a while, so that they feared she had not heard or understood. Mergo wondered in what way his description had been deficient, and was casting about for some better words, when she turned from them and reaching deep into the bosom of her ivory-colored lora, drew forth a miniature, upon which some painter had drawn a face with a few hasty, inspired strokes.

  ‘You are of Gerso, you tell me,’ she uttered; ‘tell me then, if this be a face you know.’

  Mergo took it; showed it to Zelatar. They stared at it strangely, with deepening alarm in their northern eyes.

  ‘Your majesty, this man wears no beard; and it is a hasty likeness, though remarkably skillful; and it is years now since we saw him,’ Zelatar Bonvis, prince of merchants, began awkwardly. ‘Yet even so, for all that, it is unmistakable. I would swear it before all of Goddess’s shrines, your majesty: this is a likeness of Ara-Karn.’

  ‘Truly, truly – Ara-Karn,’ Mergo Donato echoed in a whisper.

  * * *

  Ennius Kandi was Ara-Karn.

  Shall I now, she wondered, alone once more – shall I now count up all his many deeds while in my service, so that I may appreciate them fully for the first time?

  He had frightened Orolo of Pelthar from signing the pacts she had sent, and thereby put off all the other little princes who had looked to Orolo for their example. He had murdered Qhelvin of Sorne in a most brutal fashion – perhaps Qhelvin had learned something, or had some suspicions of him. Thereafter he had sold the heads of the rebellious Belknulean lords to Yorkjax. He had spread poisoned words among the foreign dignitaries residing at her court, so that their reports gave the lie to all her agents’ efforts at diplomacy.

  He had gone with Ampeánor to Tezmon, and wrecked the ship and destroyed all the bows they had bought at such great price. It had been he, doubtless, who had met with the Rukorian pirates and roused them to their old thieveries.

  He had gone Goddess-ward to gather intelligence, and as a pastime betrayed Ernthio and
shattered the cities of the upper Delba. And now he had gone toward the dark horizon to her dear friends and allies Ankhan and Lisalya of Ul Raambar, among others, there to wreak who knew what new acts of savagery and depredation.

  Because of him, Elnavis now lay dead and rotten on some nameless field near Mersaline.

  And all the while, he had used her for his private pleasure as a common whore, and laughed heartily at her dreams of glory, her plans and intrigues, unraveling them as easily and as frequently as he had unlaced her undergarments. No better than some savage beast of prey she had named him to his face in her ignorance, but she had been overgenerous in her words. Oh, she had played at the game of kings; but it was he who had proved the master, with lessons yet to offer her. Still, she was learning at his hand now, which was the best. Ampeánor was a poor foolish novice, compared to the pair of them.

  * * *

  The summer months came to an end in Tarendahardil the Most Holy, as the progress of the barbarians was reported in the halls of the officials. Bollakarvil had fallen, and Ara-Karn marched on Ilkas. Among the palaces of High Town it was quiet and dull, for the greater part of the highborn abided yet at Vapio, enjoying the multitudinous diversions the High Charan Arstomenes offered them. But the people of the lower city armed themselves, and awaited the onslaught of the invaders, as they had known they must, ever since the funeral of Elnavis.

  And among the courtiers and poets who remained, or had returned early from Vapio, it was noted that the fierceness within her majesty had grown, and was now a thing more of danger than desire.

  So they burned their laudatory poems, not daring to let word of them reach her ears.

  XVII

  ‘The Lone Chieftain, Who Majestic Stalks’

  WHEN THAT HARSH CRY, uttered in the guttural tongue of the far North, pierced the stillness of the great tent, Ampeánor leapt instantly to his feet; but there he hesitated. That surprise that had formerly been upon his side was now turned against him. The barbarian, sensing the movement in the gloom, had also risen. Surely, Ampeánor thought, he had seen the outlines of this man before. There could not be two men of such massive girth. The man standing before him, who had entered so proprietarily this tent of Ara-Karn, was none other than the barbarian general Gundoen.

  His thoughts took on wings in those fleeting moments. All his former assurances fell away. Could Ara-Karn be a myth; or might he have fallen long before, as some rumored, and the chiefs concealed the falling to hold secure their own positions? Had Gen-Karn perhaps meant Gundoen when he had spoken of the ‘barge-robber?’ Was this man all that stood between him and victory?

  The massy-thewed general did not seem in the least alarmed at the presence of an unknown intruder in the tent. Rather, he stood poised wavering, as though uncertain in his own mind what he should do – as if he might have expected some arrival at any time. Again he repeated his question, moving warily to a lamp.

  Ampeánor did not move. He knew escape was impossible; and that he would stand no chance of overcoming that enormous frame of wood-knotted muscle. Convulsively, cursing with all bitterness, he unwound the cord biting into the flesh of his bunched fists.

  Using an ember from one of the covered braziers, the barbarian lighted the lamp. In its flaring light, he surveyed intently the man he had caught. No trace of alarm touched the broad, war-scarred features. He was either supremely confident or indifferent.

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked roughly. ‘I had hoped – What do you do in the tent of Ara-Karn? Step closer to the light that I may see you better. Ah – a Southron. I should have expected it. Not a one of you has any honor. Come to see what you could steal?’

  Anger flared in Ampeánor. Never before had any man spoken thus to the High Charan of Rukor. But he remembered this man held his life; and that Allissál his beloved was in deadly danger from the treachery of the Gerso. He shrugged.

  ‘I wanted to see the tent,’ he said evenly. ‘A lot has been said of your king, and I was curious.’

  ‘He’s your king, too, Southron. When you leave here you will be searched. In the coffers of this tent is more wealth than you’ve probably ever seen in your life. I suppose that did not tempt you?’

  ‘Not much. How could I have borne it past the guards?’

  ‘How did you get in?’

  ‘I cut a slit in the tent wall at back. My weapons are still there.’

  ‘If any of the guards are involved I’ll have their heads. Their patrols must be changed to see this cannot occur again. Well, Southron, have you seen enough? A better dwelling than you’ve ever been in in your dog’s life, eh?’

  ‘Fit for better than any barbarian,’ he replied angrily.

  Unexpectedly, the general chuckled. ‘You’re honest at least. That’s more than I can say for most of your lot.’

  ‘Is this your tent?’

  The barbarian’s eyes narrowed. ‘This is the tent of Ara-Karn.’

  ‘Who is Ara-Karn?’

  Gundoen laughed. ‘Oh, no, you would not want to know, Southron! Perhaps if the gods dislike you, they will introduce him to you.’

  ‘I trust in no gods, barbarian. Only myself.’

  The barbarian regarded him awhile in silence. Then, casually, ‘You civilized men are a blasphemous lot. That is why you are conquered. Ara-Karn is the scourge of God; Goddess sent him to punish your disbelief. So our prophets say.’

  ‘I do not believe it. What does Gundoen say?’

  ‘You know who I am?’

  ‘Who does not?’

  He frowned. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Torval. A Rukorian fightingman. I joined only recently.’

  ‘You sound an educated man. You have heard philosophers?’

  ‘Some.’

  ‘And what do they teach you of religion?’

  ‘Not much. There are many rituals, which we leave to the priestesses whose business it is. Certainly we do not exalt a man because he is the most brutal of us, and call him god.’

  ‘What are your emperors, then?’

  ‘That is superstition. Also good politics. But for me every emperor must prove his worth before I give him my loyalty. Bad emperors are as much demons as good ones are gods.’

  ‘And what,’ the barbarian asked slowly, ‘say they concerning prophecy?’

  Ampeánor considered. The question seemed to refer directly to the carven words of the Prophetess, deep in the crypts of the Palace. Only agents chosen personally by the Empress had ever seen those words. The hand of the Gerso again.

  ‘I have heard of some women, mostly peasants and mountain-maids, who are said to have that gift,’ he said guardedly. ‘But I have seen only one. And if it is true, why do they not gain great wealth or power? But it is said the Prophetess of Elna had the power.’

  The barbarian did not seem to recognize the name. ‘Were her prophecies true?’

  ‘Some were. Some have yet to come to pass.’

  The huge man sat in the throne again. ‘It does not help me,’ he muttered. ‘Is there no way to tell a true prophecy from a false?’

  ‘Who finds such a way will be the most powerful man in the world. Perhaps,’ he added, ‘your Ara-Karn has found it.’

  ‘I wish he were here,’ the barbarian murmured. ‘He should not spend so much time away. And what does he accomplish there?’

  ‘And when will he return?’ asked Torval softly.

  ‘Who can say? He comes and goes according to his own purposes. Perhaps the next sleep; perhaps not until we stand outside the limits of Tarendahardil.’

  Why Tarendahardil? ‘Where is he now?’

  The barbarian came to himself with a start. ‘For a thief your tongue is busy, Southron. Get you gone. Guards!’ he bawled, and they appeared, evincing astonishment at the sight of Ampeánor. ‘Search this man well. If he has one thing he should not, cut off his hand. If he has two things he should not, cut off his head. And beat him soundly for a spy, and mark his features well. Summon the chiefs also. With the next rising of dark God, we
will attack this mountain fastness. I grow bored.’

  Strong hands were clapped upon Ampeánor and he was dragged into the light. The guards, shamed in their failure before the general, took out all their anger upon their prisoner. Never before had Ampeánor’s person been subjected to such gross affronts. Anger flamed up in him such as he had never known; and yet for all that, he held himself to hand, and never answered their calumnies and brutalities but humbly. So it is said that there, alone and unknown, the High Charan of Rukor had his sternest testing at the hands of two wrathful barbarian warriors and the painted camp-followers who had gathered at the edges of the clearing to watch the show.

  When they discovered the Darkbeast-tooth, the two men showed surprise, and were assured he must have stolen it: ‘For only our bravest warriors have won the right to wear such things; and how then might a thieving Southron hound acquire it?’

  But he put them off with a fable of having won it off a barbarian gaming; and they, as fools, accepted the tale. Or perhaps it was only that they wished not to be shown ignorant before Gundoen should the tale prove true. So he lost not his hand; but they beat him all the more fiercely for it. In a bloody mist, Ampeánor took the blows, and kept his spirit busy with the memory of all those barbarians he had slain in Tezmon upon the temple steps. In the end the blows drove the spirit from his body; he woke uneasily and in great pain in Jakgron’s tent, ministered with care by the tongueless old woman.

  * * *

  Generaled by Gundoen, the massed armies of Ara-Karn, warriors of the tribes of the far North and mercenaries and brigands of the civilized races, moved slowly up the slopes toward the mountain fastness of Bollakarvil, birthplace of Elna. Smoothly the interlocked long lines moved forward. The light did not reflect much off their dingy, battered armor, well-worn leather tunics and the plain cord grips of their well-sharpened blades. The gaudy finery, brilliant banners, and golden armor were left behind in the camps below. Such things were pretty: they marked a man’s status: but this was business.