King of Chaos

by Dave Gross

  "And why should I want to let you out?"

  You're from Egorian! You've seen dozens of imps flying around. What harm can one more little guy like me cause in your world? On the other hand, a big fellow like Viridio comes through, or worse yet one of the schemers like Dokange or Eriakne, and you have a big problem on your hands. If it makes you feel any better, think of me as the lesser evil.

  Living almost all my life in Cheliax, I was used to weighing bad against more bad. From Eel Street all the way to the royal palace, you don't see a lot of choices between good and evil. "All right," I said. "Tell me what you know."

  So we have a bargain? In my mind's eye, or through whatever magic let me see him, the little imp stuck out a clawed hand.

  "Yeah," I said, imagining I was reaching for him. In my vision of the little hell, I saw a gold light reach out to cover his hand. "Deal."

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Shroud of Unicorns

  Varian

  When at last we emerged from the Frostmire, I saw through the carriage windows that the drooping foliage of the swamp had given way to a pine forest.

  The corrupting touch of the Worldwound's fiends had not spared even this distant territory. While the nearest woods were lush with new growth, the spectres of razed trees stared in silent accusation as we rode past. Even in these earliest days of summer, a thin mist emerged from the ground to swaddle the saplings cradled in the ashes of their parents.

  Our destination lay to the east, but I called out the window to order the expedition farther north, into the forest, before turning in that direction. The open expanse between us and the Sarkorian plateau made me feel as though the eyes of Deskari and his vast plague of minions were upon us.

  Across the map table, Jelani lay sleeping on the opposite seat. For all of her enthusiasm, the sorceress had not persuaded me of her hypothesis. Her efforts to coach me in casting spells with intuition rather than reason had successfully tested only my patience. While I had no doubt of her benign intentions, her encouragements smacked of mysticism and wish-fulfillment, not learning and research.

  Still, perhaps because of some lingering romanticism in my own imagination, I could not dismiss the notion that sorcery ran in my blood. While I knew of no direct human ancestor possessed of such talent, I had only recently encountered the elven side of my family. The Morgethais counted a number of sorcerers among their kin, some of them quite notorious. If only I had wintered in Riverspire, I might have learned more of my family history.

  Yet I had given my word to visit the Queen of Thorns, and so I kept it.

  At least the changing landscape refreshed my troubled thoughts. Once I could no longer see the distant cliffs through the burned and regenerating firs, I called a halt to the expedition. Aprian balked before relaying the order to his crusaders. Although I appreciated his concern about the effect the Lexicon of Paradox had on my state of mind, I could not overlook his hesitation. Whether or not he blamed me for the loss of Oparal, he had to acknowledge my authority or else he would imperil our success.

  I emerged from the carriage with the sheathed Shadowless Sword in hand. I secured it to my waist and tucked the left side of my long coat behind the hilt. The swiftest enchanted blade in the world was no use if I could not draw it in an instant.

  Radovan leaped down from the carriage roof, startling me. It had once been his custom to ride atop the carriage or on the footman's perch, the better to spy trouble ahead. Since I began conjuring phantom steeds for his use—and now he could do so himself—he had enjoyed riding freely among the others.

  Lately, he and Alase had taken to nesting above our heads while Jelani and I studied my notes and maps within the carriage. Considering the attention the summoner had paid him since we left Gundrun, I kept expecting to hear sounds of improper conduct from their perch. Yet they had remained so silent that even I could forget their presence on the roof.

  With a nod toward me and another toward Aprian, Radovan took command of the routine chores. The drivers released the horses, watered and brushed them. The journey had taken its toll on the beasts, even the Kyonin draft horses that had previously seemed tireless. I made them a silent promise of a summer's freedom in the pastures of my western holdings. Indeed, they were such splendid specimens that I would do myself as well as them a favor by breeding them with the finest mares I could find.

  While the drivers inspected the wheels and undercarriage, I took the opportunity to stretch my legs. Arnisant accompanied me through the firs. The sweet scent of pine needles was a welcome respite from the decay of Frostmire Fen.

  Arnisant froze, pointing. I followed his gaze and caught a glimpse of a brown pelt darting through the trees. The hound trembled, hoping for the command to chase. He wanted exercise after remaining confined in the carriage, but before I could release him, another movement caught my eye.

  Bastiel ran through the pines, his mane flowing like silk behind his supple neck. The sun caught on his spiral horn, glinting both gold and alabaster in some fey trick of the eye.

  The sight of the unicorn caught up my breath. Oparal had healed him many times since first encountering the battered creature in the Fierani Forest, yet still he bore scars from his endless war against the demons of that land. Yet none of his imperfections diminished his glorious appearance. Beside him, even my peerless draft horses seemed only common beasts.

  Bastiel stopped, his noble head rising as if hearing some distant call. I cupped my ear to listen but heard nothing. At my side, Arnisant grew still, tensed to pounce. Without knowing what beckoned to the unicorn, I dared not release him. I showed him the sign to sit. He obeyed, his eyes locked on me, awaiting his next command.

  "Bastiel," I said. A twitch of the unicorn's ears told me he had heard my voice, but he did not turn his head to me. His head rose again at some signal I could not perceive.

  Without warning, he ran.

  "Go," I told Arnisant. I ran after hound and unicorn.

  My hand strayed to one of the few remaining scrolls I carried in my bandolier. One of them would allow me to alert Radovan to my pursuit. It seemed wise to summon him, yet without my grimoire my scrolls had become a finite resource. As a compromise with myself, I removed the scroll to my coat pocket, ready to cast it if necessary.

  Soon I lost sight of the unicorn in the thickening fog.

  "Arnisant!" I called.

  The hound responded with a hearty woof! I corrected course to follow him.

  The sudden increase of fog triggered my suspicion. It was not impossible that it was a natural phenomenon, but neither was it probable. I removed the scroll from my pocket, but before I could put my thumb upon its edge, I noticed I was no longer alone.

  Muted by the mist, the sound of a hundred hoofbeats surrounded me. I spied a blue eye not twenty feet away, then another on the other side of me. Arnisant returned, a querulous growl rising from his chest, neither entirely fearful nor confidently angry.

  The eyes came closer on all sides. White muzzles nosed out of the mist, blue eyes on either side of delicate equine heads, spiral horns upon their brows.

  Hesitant to provoke the creatures, I barely drew my sword and focused my thoughts on perceiving the real, dispelling any glamour meant to deceive my senses. We remained surrounded by unicorns.

  Dozens of the creatures encircled us, and beyond them came even more—perhaps hundreds of unicorns, all in the same place. I blinked again, half hoping it was some illusion, half hoping it was not. The awesome sight swelled my heart with wonder. I understood as never before why a group of unicorns is referred to as "a blessing."

  Most were slim, delicate creatures, barely larger than a deer. Others had more equine frames, sturdy creatures more than able to carry a rider. I could smell those nearest us, feel the warmth of their bodies, yet those beyond the inner circle might have been phantoms. Whether they appeared so because of some trick of the mists, I could not say. Yet I could see none that bore the mark of saddle, bit, or shoe. They were free, even
among the outer edges of the Worldwound where the demons sought to destroy or imprison every beautiful thing.

  With a startled whinny, Bastiel emerged from the crowd to circle and then stand beside me. By his wide eyes and sudden movement, I sensed the others had herded him toward the center before enclosing us inside a corral of their bodies.

  Bastiel stamped the ground and snorted. The unicorns surrounding us slowed their circling movements to stand facing us, horns lowered in an unmistakable warning.

  Shaking off the spell of their enthralling appearance, I cast my scroll, cupped my hand to my mouth, and whispered, "Radovan, come here. I need you."

  Two exceptionally beautiful unicorns pushed through the crowd to stand before us. One stood nearly as tall as the enormous Bastiel, while the other stood but a hand shorter.

  "Why have you come here?" said the shorter unicorn. Her lips moved like Tonbarse's, the inhuman mouth somehow shaping words in the common tongue and a voice undeniably feminine.

  "I meant no trespass," I said with a courtly bow. "My expedition seeks only to pass through this land on our way east."

  The unicorn and her companion—a male, I noticed—both turned their heads as if noticing me for the first time. He said, "My sister was not addressing you."

  "He speaks the truth," said Bastiel. His hoarse voice startled. He struggled with every word, as though each utterance were an agony. I felt a pang of sympathy, and understood at once why he had not spoken in my presence before.

  "I am Alunelsheas," said the female. "This is my brother, Caedaynenlo. We and our cousins whom you see before you are all that remains of our people."

  "I am Bastiel."

  The other unicorns stirred at the sound of his name.

  "We feel the pain of your loss," said Alunelsheas. "Was it your sire or dam who named you?"

  Bastiel tossed his head, unwilling to answer.

  "Here we are all orphans," said Caedaynenlo. His voice was warm and slow as a deep river in summer.

  "And is this your companion?" asked Alunelsheas, dipping her horn toward me.

  Bastiel reared and whinnied, clearly offended by the suggestion.

  "My apologies," said Alunelsheas.

  "My companion is ...lost." He pronounced the word with such grief that no further explanation was necessary.

  "Then stay here with us."

  "Stay here? To perish under the flames of demons?"

  "The fiends dare not come into the heart of the Shroud," said Caedaynenlo. "Here we are the guardians of our ancestors' spirits. We guard the land so that one day it may heal itself."

  "But we too must heal," said Alunelsheas. She dipped her head. "We must replenish our numbers. We must make more sires and dams to grant our offspring names full of both strength and love. Join us."

  A unicorn's scream presaged the sound of galloping hooves. Radovan's voice called out a startling profanity. Alase shouted some unintelligible response, and I heard the deep thunder of Tonbarse's voice.

  "Radovan, I'm here! Don't hurt them. They are friends." The latter lines were meant for both him and the unicorns.

  The unicorns parted to allow Radovan on his dreadful phantom steed and Alase on the mighty Tonbarse to enter the circle. With them came Aprian, eyes wide as he looked around from the back of his horse.

  Caedaynenlo reared at the sight of Radovan and Tonbarse. "These fiends are your friends?"

  Bastiel said nothing. He tossed his mane again and shied from Radovan as he approached.

  The unicorns lowered their horns and closed in on us.

  "Don't be a jackass, Bastiel," said Radovan. "Don't listen to him, unicorns. He's just the jealous type."

  "I am not!" Bastiel's hoarse voice cracked, his protest unconvincing.

  "Please," I said. "Alunelsheas, Caedaynenlo, we came to Sarkoris as foes of the Abyss. We seek only to close the mouth of the Worldwound."

  "Tell us, Bastiel," said Alunelsheas. "Is this true? Is this the reason you came?"

  Bastiel shifted.

  "Think of the captain," said Aprian. "Oparal wanted to fulfill her mission."

  "Oparal," said Alunelsheas. "Is that the name of your companion? Where is she?"

  The unicorn reared and screamed, his wide eyes full of agony. "Gone!"

  "Then stay with us, Bastiel," said Alunelsheas. "Stay with us, and we will let these friends of Oparal pass to pursue her mission."

  Trapped, Bastiel bucked and kicked, stamped and snorted, ran short circles around us until both Arnisant and Tonbarse growled. Radovan dispelled his phantom steed to make room for us to crowd together, back to back. We waited for Bastiel's tantrum to subside.

  It ended suddenly. Bastiel pushed his way past Alunelsheas and her brother, vanishing into the mists and unicorns.

  "So many," murmured Alase. "Dead gods and living gods."

  While I did not share her views, I had to suppress a shudder at her words. After a thunder of hooves and a swirl of mists and dust, the unicorns vanished. The mists thinned, and we began to make our way back to the Red Carriage.

  No one spoke until Radovan broke the silence. "Now does everybody believe me when I say that unicorn talks?"

  In the days that followed, we pressed east through the ravaged forests. The northern mists rose from the ground to greet us each morning, evaporating as the sun rose. It would have been a mercy had it remained to conceal the ravages of northern Sarkoris.

  Where once a vast forest had stood, only ravaged timbers and hills of ash remained. Here and there a brave young wood rose from the ashes, but the new growth halted at the margins of despoiled patches earth. We rode past the bones of goliaths, the tumbles of long granite stones that once formed druid's rings, and vast sulfurous flats.

  "The Forest of Stones," said Alase. She clung to Tonbarse's thick mane.

  "Aptly named." I rode beside them on Gemma's rouncey. The horse was skittish so close to the wolflike eidolon, and it required no small fraction of my attention to keep her moving in a straight path.

  In ideal circumstances, I would have conjured a steed of my own. Since the loss of my grimoire made it necessary to conserve my riffle scrolls, I had given Radovan the remaining phantom steed scrolls. He had never been able to approach a natural horse without provoking mortal combat.

  He also saved the scrolls against future necessity, riding atop the empty Red Carriage to survey the Forest of Stones through the lenses of my spyglass. Since his summoning of Viridio in the Frostmire, he had spent more and more time alone or with Alase, meditating in an effort to commune with his devils. Of course, I had inquired about his progress, but he seemed reluctant to discuss the matter with anyone but Alase. In other circumstances, I might have pressed him, but Jelani's hypothesis about the nature of my arcane disability continued to trouble and intrigue me, despite my certainty that she was mistaken.

  Beleaguered by hope and fear, I mistook Gannak's shout for a cry of discovery. When the Kellid called out a second time, I heard the terror in his voice.

  His countrymen reached him first, raising their own voices in shock and loathing. I kicked the rouncey into a gallop, commanding the others to follow even as the crusaders charged past me toward the commotion.

  Calf-deep in a mire of inexplicably soft earth, the Kellids formed a rough circle around an oozing mass of flesh. Among its rippling folds gaped mouths and eyes—human, fiendish, and bestial. Here and there another mammalian ornament marred its skin: a mole, a hairy patch, a weeping nipple. Through tusks, fangs, or toothless lips, its thousand mouths gibbered a nonsense litany. My thoughts spun to hear the maddening non-words.

  Gannak stood trapped in the middle of the abomination, swallowed up to his knees in the monster's roiling flesh. His supine horse thrashed beside him, already torn half to pieces. The Kellid raised the greatsword with which I had secured his service and hacked at the monster. Everywhere he struck, he opened another bloody wound. His fellows did the same all around the edges of the horrid thing.

  Jelani circled
on her steed, one hand dancing above her head. Blue-white bolts of arcane force shot into the jabbering mass. Its body recoiled where struck, but only for an instant before it resumed its feast.

  The remaining crusaders leaped from their saddles and moved in to fight beside the Kellids. Bolivar dropped his own greatsword and clutched his head at the maddening cacophony. Others hesitated or lashed out blindly. Selka hurled an axe across the monster's fluid body and struck Valki in the thigh.

  Gannak screamed in rage and pain.

  "Stand back," I shouted to the nearest combatants. As they gave me room, I snapped the edge of a riffle scroll and poured a beam of flame upon the monster. Its flesh burned, the scorched eyes melting, the gibbering lips withering.

  My mount reared and whinnied at the flames. I wasted a moment trying to calm her before slipping off the saddle and letting her go.

  Tonbarse ran in to tear at the thing. No sooner had he wet his muzzle than the great wolf yelped and ran out, whining and pawing at his eyes. Globs of yellow spittle ran down either side of his head.

  Befuddled by the chaos of the battle, I pulled two useless riffle scrolls from my bandolier before realizing I could not remember where I had secured my battle spells. In my momentary derangement, I raised my hands to form the esoteric gestures to evoke a beam of fire. I uttered the evocation.

  And stood there, foolish, as nothing resulted.

  Some sorcerer, indeed!

  "Look out, above us!" shouted Aprian.

  A cloud of flapping terrors descended on us. Previously I had seen them only from a distance. Jelani had named them vescavors—jabbering fiends about the size of a bat, which flew even more erratically than those airborne vermin. As the vescavors closed, they added their own insane song to the madness of the monster flowing across the ground.

  Unable to move, I stared in horror as chaos closed in. The vescavors swarmed over Dolok and his greatsword. He tried to shake them off, but when they flew away they left behind only the hilt of his weapon and an arm devoured to the bone.

  Men and women screamed, fire blossomed, and fiends cried out in joy all around me. And there I stood, indecisive, until a sharp blow across the face jolted me back to reason.