by Jason Kenyon
‘Good, good,’ Elsim said. ‘The third was some mage. I had to hand it off to him because he was the nearest mercenary available aside from Broadblade, who was about to catch me.’
‘The mage’s name?’ Bartell asked, getting a dark feeling.
‘Oooh, he shouted it at me so loud my ears broke, they did,’ Elsim replied. ‘Archimegadon, he said. Must be mad! A name like that, I ask you.’
‘Well, well, our hero,’ Bartell said. ‘Are you aware that Archimegadon is now here in my castle – and that he has brought a woman he claims to be Akarith?’
‘He is?’ Elsim gulped. ‘I thought he was an idiot!’
‘He is,’ Bartell said. ‘He is probably pulling a big con job, in which case he is going to find himself in deep, deep trouble, believe me. I have heard of him before. He does useless jobs for people and pretends they are great magical acts. He has picked the wrong person to fool this time.’
‘Oh, I hope so, sir,’ Elsim said, hopping from foot to foot like some horrendous dancing puppet on strings.
‘Would you like to sit in on this?’ Bartell asked, gesturing at the throne room doors. ‘I am about to meet this esteemed hero, and you may be amused to see how things turn out.’
‘What if he recognises me?’ Elsim asked, his eyes bulging behind the yellow lenses.
‘You hired him for a job,’ Bartell said. ‘Whatever would matter about him recognising you?’
‘I told him he would get a lot of relorans from Master Delarian to ensure his loyalty,’ Elsim replied. ‘I doubt he got them.’
‘Sen must be pleased with you,’ Bartell said.
‘I haven’t seen him,’ Elsim said. ‘I daren’t, I daren’t!’
‘Oh, be quiet and calm down,’ Bartell said. ‘Look, we’ve been trying to get that thing together for ages now, with Akarith’s men pestering us for the pieces. Now that Sen has all the parts – I hope – and the Dusk Alliance is no more we can move on with things. Sen should be grateful to you for getting them there. I did say at all costs, after all.’
‘Oh, thank you, my lord,’ Elsim said.
‘Don’t crawl, if you can help it,’ Bartell said. ‘Now, I’ll need to send a message for Sen to come over at once with the staff, once he’s used it to set things up over there. Since the Dusk Alliance is out of the way, rather sooner than I expected, and apparently that arse Alhamis is touring suspiciously close by, we should move on with the plan. When Sen arrives we shall have a feast, and once everyone is drunk we will carry it out. I want everything in place for then, all right?’
‘As you wish, my lord,’ Elsim replied. ‘Very exciting, very exciting!’
‘Certainly things will be taking a swift change for the better,’ Bartell said. ‘But that will only be the start, eh?’
‘Oh yes, my lord,’ Elsim replied. ‘When word gets here from the tomb…’
‘Hush!’ Bartell said, hearing footsteps close at hand. ‘We have guests. Come on. We shall await them inside.’
*
Archimegadon was no longer the drab mage in grey that he had been ever since Akarith had tried to hire him to kill the mysterious fellow at the Dusk base. Now he was clothed in the finest items he could afford with the money he had on him, which was not too inconsiderable since he had recovered his five relorans from Akarith’s room. He had chosen a fine white silk undershirt, and a splendid soft violet sleeveless top. About his shoulders and down his back flowed a silk cape of deep purple, which blended in with leggings of a similar hue. To Archimegadon’s mind, he now looked every bit the lord he deserved to be.
To Obdo, he looked a fool, as ever. Of course, Obdo had replaced, almost exactly, his dreadful clothing from before. Neurion had been given free silver armour by the nearest branch of the School of Paladins, since he was possibly the only paladin in the world from one of the schools to be associated with something heroic. The others tended to run away a lot and write bad poetry.
Archimegadon’s mind was not entirely on his fine clothing right now, though. Just moments away was the grand reward that he had been reaching for over these last weeks. Money, oh yes, money beyond his wildest dreams! Who would have thought, five years ago, that the down-and-out handyman Ardon Forseld would become Archimegadon, Mage for Hire and hero of the nation? Delicious!
‘You look very happy, Sir Mage,’ Obdo said. ‘What did you get up to last night?’
‘Nothing, you oaf,’ Archimegadon said. ‘Anyone with any sense would be delighted in my position! We are about to be exalted, Obdo.’
‘I don’t care about any of that,’ Obdo said. ‘What I want is a bed just like that one for the rest of my days. A man could die in that bed.’
‘I am sure it can be arranged,’ Archimegadon said. ‘Now hush, I believe these grand doors must lead to our benefactor.’
Archimegadon had it right this time. The oak doors, resplendent with carvings of Valanthas’s history, opened and a long red carpet stretched out ahead of them, leading up to the throne of Lord Auber Bartell himself.
There were a fair few nobles gathered outside the throne room, and they all barged past Archimegadon to get seats first. One of them knocked Obdo onto his backside, while another nearly lost his eye to the Staff of Antagules, which was sticking out on Archimegadon’s back. Seeing an opportunity that he could only have dreamt of before, Archimegadon put a foot out and watched with a great deal of satisfaction as some overeager nobles stumbled and splatted all over each other.
‘Watch your feet, you idiot!’ said one of them, trying to muster his dignity despite his skewed wig.
‘How immeasurably rude,’ Archimegadon said.
‘You show them,’ Obdo said, supporting the mage for once following his own ignoble tumble.
‘The knaves have never been in such a grand presence before,’ Archimegadon said. ‘I imagine it will take them a while to adjust.’
‘Off you go,’ a soldier said.
‘Ah, and the moment of truth,’ Archimegadon said. ‘If you ever learned to walk properly, Obdo, prove it now.’
Thus the band of three set off down the carpet, Archimegadon leading the way with the most arrogant stride the kingdom had seen in a long while. Next to Obdo, who was limping a little after being barged onto the floor, Archimegadon looked like a king. Neurion was marching with the solemnity of a true holy knight, and for all the assembled nobles could see, he was a great paladin indeed.
All the while, Bartell’s eyes stared down upon them.
Behind the Lord of Aldrack a great window displayed the mountains and forests of Valanthas beyond the walls of the city, and above them the clear blue sky. Archimegadon could not believe how perfectly all of this was proceeding, and wished that he could walk down this hall for ever, encapsulated in this perfect moment.
Unfortunately, the hall was not infinite, and the three of them came to a halt before Lord Bartell, who for the moment was wearing a smile.
‘So, you are the ones I have heard so much about!’ Bartell said.
‘Remember the story,’ Archimegadon whispered one last time to the others.
Bartell either did not notice this whispered command or chose to ignore it, for he went on. ‘I was away for just a few days, and now I return to find the city in celebration, for the Dusk Alliance, our growing enemy, has been conquered! And who, I asked, did this? So I am told, it was you three! Is this so?’
‘Indeed it is, my lord,’ Archimegadon replied. ‘The three of us were hired by the High Captain to capture the Dusk Alliance’s leader, one Akarith Kellason, and we have carried this out. Although one of our allies went missing, Valia Relassis, she did her part in aiding us to infiltrate the base.’
‘As far as I have been informed, the base has been burned to the ground,’ Bartell said. ‘Presumably you three were not the ones who did this?’
‘Ah, but we were,’ Archimegadon lied. Bartell’s eyes were fixed on his. ‘They caught us, and we had no option but to fight back. It took our combined efforts to summon a great
firestorm to devastate the base.’
‘You cast this spell yourselves?’ Bartell asked.
‘Indeed, my lord,’ Archimegadon replied. Suddenly he felt uneasy, although he had lied in this way many a time in the past. No time for stupidity, this was business! ‘But Akarith Kellason came at us in the flames and we were forced to fight for our lives against her, and believe me the battle was hard-fought.’
‘And you say you have brought her here, alive?’ Bartell asked. ‘The legendary assassin? Is this true?’
Bartell was certainly full of questions. Archimegadon began to develop a dislike for the man. ‘Indeed so, my lord! She is currently residing here, in your splendid dungeon.’
‘If so, then I don’t imagine you will mind me asking for her to be brought here,’ Bartell said. The Lord of Aldrack smiled inwardly. This was the moment that would break Archimegadon, that would have him begging forgiveness for his lies. If not now, then when the prisoner was brought before him. He fired off his devastating words. ‘I knew her myself before she became an assassin, you see,’ he added, looking to see Archimegadon’s artifice crumble.
‘So she tells us, my lord,’ Archimegadon said, oblivious to what Bartell had been hoping would happen, and to the man’s obvious surprise at the mage’s bland reaction.
‘Ah, excellent,’ Bartell said, a little put out. He waved at a few soldiers. ‘Go and bring Akarith to me at once! I wish to speak with her.’
Archimegadon was still riding on his soaring confidence, unaware of Bartell’s misplaced certainty (at least in the matter of Akarith). This meeting was going well, he felt. Well, time to bring out the real important matter.
‘My lord Bartell,’ Archimegadon said, ‘while we await Akarith, may we deal with another matter?’
Bartell waved a hand lazily. ‘Very well, go ahead, mage.’
Although miffed at being treated so lightly, Archimegadon kept the feigned respect in his voice as he drew forth the red amulet and the letter of introduction. ‘I have here an amulet for you, sent by Master Sen Delarian of the Melethas Mage School,’ he said. ‘Here is a letter of introduction from him, and the amulet in question.’ He held forth the items.
Bartell covered his irritation at this. He didn’t want anyone getting the slightest whiff that he and Sen were trading magical objects, nor that they were hiring idiots to do the delivering. Furthermore, what was this amulet, and what had Sen written on the letter? He took the proffered items and opened the letter up.
‘Two thou…’
Bartell stopped quickly and re-read the message. Sen had clearly not been happy about Elsim promising away a lot of his relorans for each delivery. Well, he had said at all cost, but to give such riches to this fool before him was madness!
‘Well, mage, you have certainly earnt yourself a fair bit of money this day.’ Bartell’s forced smile nearly sent his face muscles into spasms. He set aside the amulet, which looked and felt worthless, and the letter too. ‘We shall deal with that after our notable guest reaches us, eh?’ Hopefully, the false Akarith would save him from handing over this sum of money.
‘Of course, my lord,’ Archimegadon replied, feeling his exultation begin to give way to the dread fear that Bartell was going to stiff him as well.
A very unpleasant silence followed. Bartell was far too angry to even consider speaking, and Archimegadon suddenly felt too small in that grand room to start up any conversation. Everyone set to examining the room’s decorations in that supposed-to-be-subtle-but-actually-quite-obvious way people adopt whenever something very awkward is taking place right in front of them.
When the soldiers pushed Akarith into the throne room everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief, except for Bartell, whose face muscles not only went into spasm but threatened to jump ship altogether. He rubbed his eyes in an effort to change what he could see, but all he did was make his eyes go red. This was a complete and utter disaster.
‘Well met, Lord Bartell,’ Akarith said, trying to curtsey despite the fact that her arms and legs had all been bound. The guards to either side of her had to lift her by the arms and carry her down towards Bartell.
‘Akarith… isn’t this a change of fortunes?’ Bartell asked, feeling worse by the second. ‘And there you thought you could outwit me, for reasons I cannot quite fathom.’
‘It wasn’t personal, Auber,’ Akarith said. ‘Just a shame it had to hit you so hard, mmm?’ She winked.
Bartell couldn’t understand what on earth was going on. Had the entire world gone mad? One minute he was in control of everything, the next he finds that some worthless mage for hire has had himself declared a war hero in his absence, has somehow captured Akarith against all the odds, and now Akarith was winking at him for no apparent reason whatsoever. He decided to open up that vintage bottle of wine that was gathering dust in his desk the moment he got out of here.
‘Whatever are you talking about?’ Bartell asked. ‘Nothing has hit me hard at all.’ Had Bartell not been waiting for Akarith’s response so attentively, he might have noticed Archimegadon assuming a poker face.
‘Oh, I see,’ Akarith said, smiling quite inexplicably to Bartell. ‘Don’t want anyone to know, do you? I can understand, Auber.’
Lord Bartell searched every part of his mind for what she was alluding to, but nothing came to him. She surely wasn’t talking about his plans with the Staff of Vortagenses, since she had clearly not managed to get hold of it.
‘Let us drop these meaningless riddles,’ he said, losing his cool disposition. ‘You have led a rebellion against the kingdom and thus committed high treason. Therefore, I have but one recourse. You will be executed. I am sorry it has come to this.’
He was particularly unhappy that it had come to this. After all, he and Akarith had shared some wonderful times in their glory days. Now, though, too much time had passed, and this whole thing with the Dusk Alliance had left him little choice. So be it.
‘Oh come on, Auber, that isn’t why you’re putting me to death,’ Akarith said.
Archimegadon here debated whether to put a stop to this, but as in the case of the curious child seeing a disaster coming and keeping silent to observe what will happen, he decided to let the events proceed.
‘I have no idea what you are getting at, Akarith, and I do not care,’ Bartell said, his face reddening.
‘At least be brave enough to admit it,’ Akarith said.
‘Admit what?’
‘That thanks to me, you no longer have a…’ Akarith stuck out her tongue and wiggled it suggestively.
‘A tongue?’ Bartell asked, very confused indeed. Unfortunately for him, the nobles around him had caught on.
‘You shouldn’t really be using magical items down there anyway,’ Akarith said. ‘It’s your own fault it went wrong.’
‘Oooh dear,’ Archimegadon said, although this was perhaps the best entertainment he’d had in years. He only hoped it did not rebound on him.
The nobles erupted into laughter at the same time that Bartell realised what she was saying. This really was beyond the mark. He rose to his feet instantly.
‘Silence!’ he yelled. ‘Be quiet, all of you! She is lying! I have not used any magical items for anything! It is a lie!’
He surveyed the room to see if anyone believed him, but their eyes were all fixed on one thing. The red amulet at his side. The bloody amulet Archimegadon had just specifically delivered to him.
‘Now look,’ Bartell said, trying to regain control of his court, ‘this amulet here is simply an item Master Delarian saved from the Dusk Alliance’s thieving hands. I did not intend to use it for any personal purposes.’
‘Well, isn’t this a development?’ Obdo whispered to Archimegadon, grinning like a fool.
Archimegadon remained very quiet.
‘Something up?’
‘I’ll tell you later,’ Archimegadon replied, trying to keep from laughing.
‘Out, all of you!’ Bartell yelled. ‘And if you speak a word of this
lie, I promise that you will be stripped of your lands and riches! Now get out!’ He sighed. ‘Except for you, mage, and your friends. Stick Akarith somewhere unpleasant,’ he told the guards.
The room cleared in no time at all, and Archimegadon wondered whether any of the nobles would actually keep quiet. Unlikely. Poor Bartell was going to have quite the reputation soon. Ah well.
‘Come here,’ Bartell said, his voice empty and exhausted. ‘Let us deal with this matter of payment.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that, my lord,’ Archimegadon lied.
‘Promises are promises,’ Bartell said. ‘Two thousand relorans, it says.’
Obdo and Neurion stared at Archimegadon.
‘Sir Mage!’ Obdo said.
‘I shall have the money for you in a matter of days,’ Bartell said. ‘We will have a feast in honour of your victory, and then I shall present you with the money. You will be a hero, mage. What say you?’
The lure of fame sold Archimegadon there and then. Besides, Bartell’s defeated manner did not suggest the capacity for treachery. ‘Very well, my lord, and thank you.’
‘I shall arrange it, then,’ Bartell said. ‘Now go and enjoy your time in my castle.’
Archimegadon, Neurion and Obdo bowed as one and turned to leave, but Bartell cleared his throat.
‘You… don’t believe her lie, do you?’ Bartell asked.
‘I tell you truthfully,’ Archimegadon replied, ‘I believe that what she is saying is nothing more than a falsehood. Trust me on that one.’
That didn’t stop him from sniggering all the way back to his room.
Chapter Nineteen: Heroes of Old
Bartell opened his second bottle of wine before finally deciding on a course of action. He summoned a knight and sent him down to the prison cells with clear instructions and then drained another glass. Bloody nobles. Who needed them?
Lord Bartell’s personal chambers were ridiculously over-decorated, but this suited the former hero perfectly. Just as Sen’s study had been all dark browns and greens, so were his chambers, furnished with the finest desks and chairs produced by the most skilled craftsmen in the kingdom. Bartell had spared no expense in arranging his chambers to reflect the very essence of top nobility, so that anybody who went to see him, peasant or king, would be impressed.
