by Conner, Jack
“There,” Davril said, gesturing to the north. “My scouts have found the Jewel, and the Lady who bears it. They ride toward Sraltar Square in a great caravan, surrounded by two full legions.”
“Excellent!” exclaimed General Montieb. “Then we can catch them yet. Two full legions will be difficult to overcome, especially with the head start they have on us, but after the battle we just won I’m apt to believe you’re capable of anything, Lord Husan.”
Davril smiled. Since the close of the battle, all those he had come in contact with had shown him the deepest respect. Would that I could live to enjoy it.
“Thank you,” he said. Davril frowned as he stared north, toward the great darkness that had congealed in Sraltar Square. He could see nothing of Uulos, just a darkness blacker than the night. However, he didn’t need eyes to find the Worm. He could feel it, all malice and power. Uulos radiated evil like heat off a hot road, and Davril felt it every time he looked toward the square.
“I appreciate the trust you all have in me,” he said, “but even I can’t get the Jewel back now. It’s lost to the Worm.” They made noises of shock and protest, but he raised his hands and called for silence, and when they obliged, he said, “I fear retaking the Jewel will not win us the war, anyway.”
“What is this?” demanded Father Elimhas, and Father Trisdan nodded agreement.
“Now that our hiding place is known we will have to relocate,” Davril said, “and there’s simply nowhere to relocate to. The enemy’s spies are everywhere. In no ghetto or hole could we hide. And Uulos’s agents will be back within the hour to finish us off, General or no General. We’ll barely have time to evacuate a tenth of our people, and they’d be butchered in the streets when they couldn’t find a place to hole up. No. We strike now. It’s our only choice. That or complete oblivion.”
The Lady of Behara let out a breath. “Surely you do not mean to let them have the Jewel!”
Alyssa stood in the crowd, looking at him strangely. Evidently she saw something in his eyes, as suddenly she let out a sob and turned away.
“Alas,” he breathed, “that is exactly what I mean to do.”
Chapter 19
When they all erupted in protests again, Davril waited it out. “Let me explain,” he said.
Tensely, they listened as he outlined his plan, the wind howling and screaming about the tower while he talked. When he finished, Alyssa sank to her knees and wept. The others looked at him with new respect, but also a certain sadness. They were being addressed by a dead man.
“You see,” he finished, “this is the only way. Our finding of the lost books at the Light-House, and Father Trisdan’s subsequent quickening of the egg, has given us a great opportunity. The Jewel itself is now a threat to Uulos. We must take advantage of that while we can, while Uulos is still consolidating His power, before He’s reached His full might.”
Shaking her head back, Alyssa said, “No! No, darling. You cannot do this.”
“It’s the only way. We cannot hope to win, not even if we retake the Jewel. I don’t want to do this—”
“You do!” she accused him. “You do.”
The others made way for him as he went to Alyssa and knelt beside her.
“No,” he said. “I want to stay with you. But I must confront the Worm. It’s because of me that He has come, it is because of me that He has the Jewel, but it will be because of me that He is slain.”
“There!” she said, her blue-green eyes flashing. “That’s why you want to do this.” She stormed angrily down the stairs.
He called out for her to stop, but of course she didn’t, and he knew the sight of her narrow back slipping into the darkness of the stairwell would be the last he would ever see of her.
For a moment, he stood, hoping she would come back, then returned his attention to his lords and priests. Wind screamed over the rooftop, billowing their robes and tunics dramatically, and they regarded him with still, frightened eyes. Still, there was resolve in their postures and firmness in the set of their chins.
Wesrai, looking confused, for he had likely just run into Alyssa going the other way, emerged from the stairwell holding the burden Davril had sent him to fetch. Silently, he handed Davril the Lerumite robe and staff, and Davril wrapped the robe about him. It was the same one he’d taken from the fish-priest the night he saved Alyssa, and again he hoped to utilize it and the staff for the same purpose.
“Are you sure about this?” Wesrai asked.
“It’s no shame to change course,” Jeselri said. “There must be another way.”
Davril looked at him. “If any of you can think of one, I’ll stay. I give you one minute.” He stood there staring at them—the Lady of Asragot bringing her burden closer to Sraltar Square with every heartbeat—and at last they hung their heads.
Davril nodded. “Then I must go.”
Alyssa watched from a window as Davril mounted a horse in the courtyard. Weeping, she cursed him, and herself, even the night sky above. Why did he have to do this? How could he abandon her? Qazradan?
That was unfair, she knew. Tearfully, she watched Davril take the reins of his horse. His right leg clearly pained him, but he used it anyway. Alyssa was surprised he could even walk with all he’d been through tonight. The Lady of Asragot had used him cruelly.
The generals and advisors gathered around Davril in the courtyard, their horses brought to them by handlers. None mounted, however. All stood in a half-circle about Davril, listening to his final instructions and wishing him well. Alyssa couldn’t hear their words, but she could imagine them. She should be down there. She should be with him.
Suddenly she quit the window and rushed down through the building, wiping her eyes. She burst out into the courtyard, the wind snatching at her hair.
Davril was just a dark speck vanishing down the avenue.
The hooves of Davril’s horse clattered on the cobblestones, the sound echoing off the dark and empty buildings that on either side of him; he felt like he was riding down a dark valley toward his doom. I am. Over the sound of hooves tolled of the hideous bells, summoning the Sedremerans to Uulos. They weren’t the poignant, mysterious bells of Algorad, but heavy, inexorable, their echoes sounding off the empty buildings long after the bells themselves had been rung.
Every clatter of the horse’s hooves shook Davril’s body, turning every one of his wounds into a fiery blaze. He grit his teeth against the pain. Blood wept from his cuts, from the hole where his right nipple used to be, from the strips of raw meat where his skin used to cling, soaking his clothes and running down his legs to drip off his sandals. He rode down that valley of darkness, leaving a trail of blood in his wake, with the sound of the bells in his ears.
But it was not to Sraltar Square that he rode, at least not at first. He rode toward the Palace on its silent mountain. He reached it in good time, the streets being empty. And still the bells tolled, summoning any stragglers. All must witness the final victory of Uulos.
Davril rode through the many arches in the walls encircling the Palace, past the mansions, past the guard outposts, and finally into the gilded courtyard before the stairs leading up to the high doors of the Palace. There, in the shadows before the doors, stood yet more shadows.
Davril dismounted and went to them, bowing his head to his father, whose pale face he could just see, ghostly and gray by the dim light. His brothers stood behind the old emperor, and their eyes regarded Davril, surprisingly, with warmth. There was even the suggestion of a smile on the old emperor’s face.
“You may rise,” he said, and Davril straightened. “Have you come to bid us farewell?” his father asked. “Tonight the Phoenix dies. Even now he is borne toward the Worm. We can feel it. And we can feel the Worm’s attention begin to be directed at us. After He devours the bird, His might will swell. His gaze will turn. He will be strong enough to destroy the Great Ones, to avenge Himself of their betrayal.”
“I go to stop Him.”
“What would y
ou ask of us?”
“You aided me last time. I would never have been able to steal the Jewel without you. If you hadn’t helped my men distract the Lerumites, we wouldn’t have been able to quicken it, and I couldn’t do what I intend now. But I need your help again. One last time.”
His father smiled. “One last time, you mean, before we take that final journey together. Down to glittering Algorad, where there will be singing and merriment until the end of days.”
“Yes,” Davril said, and he returned his father’s smile, though sadly. “It will be as you say, if we can bring down Uulos.”
He told his father what he wanted. It was simple enough.
Behind him, down the slope a piece, a rider watched him. She had followed him silently, trailing him at some distance, and she dismounted and sheltered herself in an archway. She strained forward, listening, but she could not hear his words.
The Lady of Asragot rode at the head of the procession bearing the Jewel of the Sun toward her eternal master, the Great Uulos, Lord of All. Behind her, the thousands of soldiers safeguarding the Jewel rode in grim silence, though their horses’ hooves made thunder on the cobblestones. The wave of sound rolled before them to announce their arrival.
All Sedremere had gathered to Sraltar Square. Only half a million could fit in the Square proper, so many ascended to the buildings near it. They stood at windows, or upon rooftops, or in the streets and alleys converging on the Square. There were so many of them, and all had worn their finest, not that Uulos cared. The Lady smiled when she saw them, and smiled wider as they made way for her and her procession.
She led the train of soldiers through them, and they pressed back into the alleys, almost trampling each other to get out of her way. She half-expected some to attack her, or perhaps another assault would come from some remnant of the rebels. Either way, she was prepared. She was a mighty being, and Uulos had blessed her with some echo of His own might to better carry out His will. None attacked her. General Hastus must have destroyed them all, then. Even now he would be rounding up the rebellion’s survivors to be brought to the Master as sacrifices. She hoped many had survived. Her lord needed souls, and they were running out of prisoners of war. He had returned to this world, but He was not yet at His old strength.
Soon, though. He will devour the Jewel and be mightier than He has ever been.
Passing through the grand south entrance of Sraltar Square, she beheld the massive gathering that had come to witness Uulos’s triumph. Horns blew at her arrival, and people cheered—some, anyway. Most had yet to truly take Uulos into their hearts.
They will learn, she told herself. They will learn.
Here and there among the gathering rose great mounds or tall, unearthly figures, or strange fires, and more. These were ancient beings not unlike the Lady, things that had slumbered or hid for eons awaiting the Master’s return. Now they’d come, some eating the humans that stood too near, some indulging themselves in other ways. But one and all had come to witness their lord’s ascension and bask in His greatness. Soon His swelling power would summon even more, greater allies, like Sythang who dwelt below. Soon, with the destruction of the Jewel, when Uulos’s might could spread unchecked, the world would be fit for their habitation. The age of man would end.
She rode forward into the cleared space around her Master, seeing the lines of soldiers and Lerumites, the column of sacrifices being herded toward Him. Her eyes fell on the Worm, and all her smiles and eagerness fell away, to be utterly eclipsed by wonder and awe.
Davril stared, too.
He’d entered through the east entrance and was shoving his way through the dense crowd when a space opened up before him around one of the beings drawn by the Worm—a creature of purple fire —and suddenly his eyes fell on Uulos Himself.
Davril gasped. There where the Pyramid of Eresmed had stood, where Davril himself had been crowned in another age, loomed the Worm.
At first all Davril could see was a great pall of blackness. It was something like living shadow congealed into a single mass, a mountain of shadow swelling and throbbing, sitting in the midst of Sraltar Square, leaving not a trace of the pyramid that had stood there before. The longer Davril stared, the more he could see slight irregularities in the shadow. Sometimes it would swell, or swirl, or part, and he would get a glimpse of what lay beyond. He saw a hint of a massive amorphous limb, something like a great pincer, and a tendril, and behind it a monstrous bulk, glistening and heaving. Then the shadow folded shut.
Summoning his courage, Davril renewed shoving his way through the crowd. They gave back, as he wore the robes and carried the staff of a Lerumite.
Almost there, he thought. Damn it, I shouldn’t have taken the time to visit my father. But he’d had to do what he could to protect her. I’d better get there in time, then.
He wondered if the men were in position yet. He’d spoken with his generals and spymasters before he’d departed the Avestine Quarter, had ordered them to send word to the men they had placed within the Lerumites’ acolytes and the General’s military. He had told them what they needed to do, and they had, very reluctantly, agreed. Even now the men should be preparing themselves.
The press of people was too thick. Alyssa had to climb down from her horse. Frustrated, knowing Davril had already dismounted and was somewhere ahead, perhaps far ahead, she slipped her way through the crowd with desperation burning through her veins. The people cursed her and elbowed her, but she passed through them without getting entangled.
She had to reach him, had to tell him that he didn’t have to atone for anything, that if she could be forgiven so could he, there had to be another way —
Crying, she groped her way forward, overwhelmed at the mass of humanity all around her. The archway rose ahead. Davril must have already passed through it. He was far ahead of her now, he must be. His robes and staff cut through this crowd much faster than anything Alyssa had. Almost ruefully, she realized this was no longer a world that appreciated human beauty. She might never catch up with him, might never tell him what she suspected, what she had felt, a change in her body, a sense of fullness . . .
Suddenly a shadow rose before her, a shadow with a pale, cold face. People all around shrieked and shoved away from it. And from the others. Four other shadows stood arrayed behind this one. As one, they closed on her. For a moment, fear overwhelmed her. Then rage melted it away.
“No!” she screamed. “No!”
Their cold, iron grips closed on her arms. As one, they hefted her up.
“No!” she screamed. “No, you can’t do this!”
But the late Lord Husan, Davril’s father, whom Alyssa had known all her life, said, “Let him do what he must, child. And what we must. He asked us to do one thing for him, and one thing only.”
He nodded to his sons, and they bore her kicking and screaming away.
Reverently, the Lady dismounted before the presence of the Great One. Behind her, her priests removed the Jewel of the Sun from the carriage that had carried it and spoke words of power over it to dampen its bite so that when Uulos swallowed it it would not pain him unduly. Even so, she could sense that it was stronger now. The rebels had done something to it. No matter. As long as the Master swallowed it whole, and it did not break, then He could absorb its power over eons, taking as much time as He needed.
The Lady waited, basking in the presence of the swollen darkness that seethed before her, blotting out the stars and towers of the city.
When the words were done, the she ordered the Jewel brought before her and placed on the marble floor of the Square. She stood directly before the might of Uulos with the Jewel, a mighty offering indeed, smoking before her. The crowd gasped at the flaming egg, and the Lerumites made gestures to ward off ill luck, and the great mass that was the One stirred. She could feel His hunger, His need. He had waited for this day for countless ages—and it had been her, the Lady, who had made this happen. He would remember that.
“My Lord, it is
time,” she said. “I bring to you the so-called Jewel of the Sun, a stepping stone to Your invincibility, and Your utter omnipotence.”
A sound came from the Shadow—a groan? a growl? it was impossible to tell—and for a moment the Lady felt fear flutter in her heart. Uulos possessed few of her sensibilities, and she must not try His patience with displays of loyalty.
She gestured to the Jewel, which sat on the litter upon which it had been carried, wooden but with a metal seat for the Jewel. She motioned to it, bowing, then stepped back meekly. Behind her, the Lerumites warbled out their songs, and the crowd murmured in ear and awe. This was it. This was the time of Uulos’s ascension.
The shadow parted. A great, amorphous limb appeared—slowly, ponderously unreeling toward the Jewel. The Lady had to stop herself from scurrying backward.
The limb drew closer, she could feel it, smell it, all seaweed and sulfur, and she fancied it dripped some substance onto the marble of the Square. The limb neared, and now its shadow fell over Jewel and Lady. It would scoop up the Jewel, litter and all, and reel it back into the shadow, into the One, and it would be done . . .
The Lady held her breath —
Commotion sounded. Metal clashed on metal. People screamed.
The limb slowed . . .
The Lady spun.
Rows of horse-mounted soldiers had stood between the Lady, the Lerumites and the mass of unworthy humanity, keeping the citizens of Sedremere in line and serving as protection for the royalty of the newly christened empire, but now a group of those soldiers rushed against their brothers, cutting them down unceremoniously. The soldiers recoiled, and in their moment of indecision even more fell.
