The Crown of the Usurper

by Gav Thorpe

  He also saw more Nemurians, clambering up the rock bridges and swinging along ropes from one nest to another. They moved with a grace that was far from their lumbering strides on land. Out on the lake, large flat-bottomed boats bobbed on the waves, and he could see nets draped through the waters between them. Moving his head slowly, opening his other eye to peer past the thick arm of the Nemurian, he saw that the lake stretched for more than mile behind him, ringed by volcanic upthrusts.

  The Nemurians were talking, or so he assumed from the half-whispered syllables and grunts that passed between them. He was also surprised to hear the bleating of goats nearby, heard against the noise of the wind in the treetops.

  The Nemurian stopped and lowered him to the ground, its green eyes regarding him critically.

  "I think I can walk," said Noran. He looked up and saw that it was nearly noon. He remembered nothing of the morning passing, but it was clear they had travelled at speed for some distance.

  "We have come," said the Nemurian. "The stones beckon."

  The creature stepped aside and Noran saw that they had come to a large cave mouth. Something glittered with pale green light within and he could see the outlines of more Nemurians, settled on their haunches.

  A strange hooting call overhead drew his attention and he looked up to see a lattice of ropes strung between the slope above the cave and a pinnacle of rock. There were several Nemurians of different sizes but all smaller than those he had encountered – infants he guessed – hanging from the ropes, looking down at him with curious gazes. Some of them used their tails as extra limbs, swinging from one rope to another with the ease of monkeys despite their size. Several pointed and made more whooping noises. Noran had the suspicion it was laughter and placed his hand over his exposed genitals out of instinct.

  "I am a man-speaker." This pronouncement came from the cave entrance. The Nemurian who made it did not wear armour or kilt, but around its neck hung a long scarf of twisted leather strips studded with a king's fortune in diamonds, rubies, sapphires and other precious gems. Its scales were pale grey, with flashes of dark blue across the shoulders, the face a deep purple colour around bright green eyes. "Nok'ka is an acceptable term of address."

  "Noran Astaan, of Askh," said the herald, bowing his best courtly bow, which somewhat lost its dignified purpose as he swept his hand away to reveal his dangling private parts. Covering them again quickly, Noran rallied his nerve. "A man-speaker? I thought that many Nemurians learned the tongue of Askhor."

  "The words are not difficult for us, but the thoughts behind them are rare, approached by only a few." The Nemurian beckoned Noran to approach. "A man-speaker gives voice to your thoughts so that the mind of the rocks is known."

  "Um, you lost me with that last part," said Noran, approaching with short steps. "The mind of the rocks?"

  "Forgive, but it is a rock-thought that does not translate well."

  "Would you pass my thanks to the one that carried me?" said Noran. He stepped into the shadow of the cave mouth and his skin prickled at the sudden coolness. "Also, I would be very grateful if you had perhaps a blanket or something?"

  "Your thanks would not mean anything to Ok'kak'ka. She finds reward in the duty of the rocks and it is sufficient. For you we have prepared your arrival. Food and water, and coverings for your flesh. Be following me."

  Walking into the cave just a step behind Nok'ka, Noran saw that the glow within came from jagged veins of stone set into the walls. After a few strides the air grew warmer again and through an arched opening he saw a red glow. He looked for a moment and saw the ruddy light shifting slowly, but not the flicker of fire. He was not able to investigate further as Nok'ka led him across the hall-like cave towards a small bundle of cloth lying on a rock shelf. Taking up the bundle, Noran discovered it was a loose smock of wool, soft to the touch. He slipped it on, tucking it through his belt, reminded of a child's garment. On the floor next to the outcrop of stone were two bowl-like mats of woven reed; water in one and seared fish on another.

  He drank first, careful not to splash his new robe with the water, and then wolfed down the fish, which had a slightly acrid taste but was not unpalatable. Nok'ka watched him silently, hands clasped across its belly. Something the manspeaker had said struck Noran.

  "You said 'she' finds reward? The one that carried me, I mean."

  "I am also of the female," said Nok'ka. "I am understanding it is difficult for humans to be understanding, but there is little in our forms to differentiate the mothers of the rock from the sons of the rock. It is being of little importance. Are you fed well?"

  "Enough for the moment, thank you," said Noran, his stomach already feeling tight from the generous helping of fish. He suspected he had swallowed a lot of saltwater and thrown up at some point, for his gut felt tender. "I must also thank you for your welcome. I had been led to believe that Nemuria was a place inhospitable to my people. The one-mile ban, and all of that, you see?"

  "You are confusing our sensible treatment with the kind regards of welcome," said Nok'ka. "The stones have yet to speak on your behalf. Your man-thoughts are misleading you."

  Realising that he had certainly misread his situation, Noran swallowed hard. The isle seemed peaceful, and Nok'ka certainly showed no ill intent, but he could not help but recall stories of the things Nemurians did in battle; smashing bones and crushing skulls, ripping off limbs and pulling out organs. It was hard to marry such savage tales with his docile surrounds, but he was suddenly wary again.

  "The one who on the shore said I was expected," Noran said, hoping that this was a sign to his credit. "The waves spoke of my coming?"

  "A ship was seen, that is all," explained Nok'ka. "My people are not usually seeing the separate parts of the world as men do. A ship is the sea. A city is the rock. A bird is the sky. Your ship was easily seen coming close to the island. Urki was waiting to see the intent of those on the ship."

  "Well, I've come for your help, if that is not yet clear. I had gold to pay for your services, but the pirates – the men on the ship – took it from me."

  "This we will be discussing with the stones," said Nok'ka. "Be coming with me."

  They walked back to the cleft in the wall that Noran had seen earlier, and passed into the red light. There was no sign of artifice to the walls, the corridor being nothing more than a cleft in the fabric of the rock that broadened out after less than fifty paces.

  The source of the light was a deep gorge that split the cave floor ahead, from the depths of which poured heat and redness. Somewhere beneath the cave, a fire river flowed its light reflecting from crystal deposits in the cave roof. On the very lip of the precipice were three standing stones, or more precisely three piles of large stones painted with more of the shapes and symbols Noran had seen out on the lake shore.

  A handful of Nemurians crouched around the stones, their heads covered in leather cowls adorned with gems that glinted in the light of the fire river. A collection of stones was set before each of them, every pebble with a single painted symbol upon it. Noran recognised an eye on one as Nok'ka brought him closer. Another looked like a triangle with curved sides, which might have been a mountain, while a third seemed to be marked with a cloud. Of the others, he could not make any guess.

  "Are these your rulers? Am I to make my offer now?"

  "It is man-thought to be speaking of rulers and offers. The time for bargainings has passed."

  "I can get more gold," Noran said, "if that is the problem. Help us and I have the treasuries of the empire to give to you."

  "The empire of the Askhans is finished." Nok'ka's statement hit Noran like blow to the gut.

  "Not with y–"

  "Gold is of no value with no men to be returning it to," Nok'ka continued. "The night-sky-walkers have returned. We are facing the choice again."

  "What choice? Again?"

  "It is being of consequence to us alone."

  "Not bloody likely," said Noran, feeling that he was being treated
like a child again. "You say the empire will fall and it is only your problem?"

  "It is man-thought to be hearing without listening. Attend, Noran Astaan." Nok'ka placed a hand on Noran's shoulder, the insistent pressure urging him to sit down, though not unkindly. He sat with his legs crossed, hands in his lap. Nok'ka lowered to her haunches in front of him, hands resting palm down on the uneven floor of the cave.

  "Long is the memory of the rocks. The night-sky-walkers came before, when the lands you call empire were belonging to the people of the rocks. On the hot winds they came, with the men of red skin. Great was the war."

  "The Mekhani? They are the men with red skin, correct?"

  "If that is the calling of them in your words, then yes. One man there was, of pale skin, who had come to us with false words. He stole from us many secrets, many turnings before the coming of the night-sky-walkers. The blood of the mountains that you call lava he took from us, and the telling of the winds and many other things that men would not know by their own thoughts. The night-sky-walkers heard his words and gave him more secrets. The lands of the dust and sands were green and watered, but the one of the pale skin fed the lands to the night-sky-walkers and they drank deep of the essence of the grass and the trees and the beasts."

  Nok'ka made a sound that might have been a sigh, or perhaps something more pained.

  "Full from their feast, the night-sky-walkers desired more and they painted the red upon the skin of the pale man's warriors, making them mark upon them. Into the cold the red men came and we dug deep, bringing forth the iron to slay them. The night-sky-walkers followed in the wake of the armies and we fought them too. For many turnings we warred with the red men and the night-sky-walkers, and the lands of the hot winds were drained of their life to feed the night-skywalkers. The rocks were stronger than the wind and we endured, but the pale man escaped us, taking with him the body of the last night-sky-walker to tread upon the rocks."

  "Lakhyri," muttered Noran, piecing together what he could from the ramblings of the man-speaker. She may have been versed in the ways of human thought, but her sense of narrative was woefully lacking. Noran noticed Nok'ka was looking at him attentively. "Lakhyri is the name of the pale man. I think. He brings the shadow creatures with him."

  "The wind told us this and now the rocks feel their tread again," said Nok'ka. "The men of the setting sun came when we were weak from our war and so we were fleeing, those mothers of rock and sons of rock who had survived the war. The men of the setting sun were too many to fight and we were hiding from them."

  "The tribes that came before Askh," Noran said, trying to keep up. "They came from duskwards, but that was centuries ago."

  "One thousand, four-hundred and twenty-two times has the sun turned about the world since we hid," said Nok'ka. "When the men of the setting sun built cities and came to us offering peace, we listened to false promises. In guise of battle we searched the world again for sign of the night-sky-walkers but found nothing. The red men lived, but their power was gone. So we believed that our victory had been won. Not so. The lies of the setting sun men return to us. The night-sky-walkers come to the world once more and we face the choice. We hid from the choice, leaving your empire so that the night-skywalkers would not find us, but you bring the choice with you."

  "To fight or to hide," guessed Noran. "That is the choice, is it not? Look, with your help we can beat Urikh and these shadow-monsters. I bet that Ullsaard would even give you some of your old lands back in return for your help."

  "Promises are man-thought. Deeds yet to be done have no value. We shall let the rocks decide."

  Nok'ka turned her gaze to the Nemurians squatting around the columns. The elders, or whatever the Nemurians thought them to be, started to talk quickly amongst themselves, their soft voices echoing around the chamber.

  "On a personal level, if you decide to hide, what happens to me?" Noran asked, trying to appear casual.

  "We will kill you," Nok'ka replied without any obvious malice. "Or we will not. The rocks will be telling of your fate. The night-sky-walkers are seeing the man-thoughts easily. It is danger to let you leave, but the people of the rocks do not punish innocence. Rock-thoughts are not for the nightsky-walkers to see. You know of the choice now, so from you the night-sky-walkers perhaps learn again of the people of the rocks."

  "Oh good," Noran said weakly. "I thought it might be something like that."

  "Be still with words now, for we must be listening to the choice of the stones."

  Noran started to bite a fingernail, wishing he had some wine to soothe his nerves. The stone watchers were still talking constantly, but now and then one would pick a pebble from his or her pile and toss it towards the standing stones. The ping of their contact and clatter of their landing on the cave floor punctuated the discussion. As more and more pebbles clattered from rock, the Nemurians stood up and pointed, drawing lines with pointing fingers between the symbol-stones. When the last stone had landed, they fell silent for a moment, stepping back to sweep their gazes over the pattern thus formed.

  "Is that it?" asked Noran. "Throw some pebbles around and the answer will be given to you?"

  "The rocks are knowing," Nok'ka replied sharply. "The rocks were once suns, and those suns once other rocks. They are the sun and the world and the stars and the moons. What knowledge can we be having that they do not?"

  This made no sense to Noran at all, but he felt the irritation of the Nemurians at his interruption. The stone-hurlers were all glaring at him from across the cave. He raised a hand in apology and they started talking again, each one taking a turn to interpret the meaning of the symbol-stones. There seemed to be some kind of consensus and the Nemurians moved across the cave picking up their pebbles. One of them, with a diamond as large as a fist set into an iron collar around his neck, gestured for Nok'ka. The man-speaker approached and they talked briefly before she returned to Noran.

  The herald stood up, trembling in anticipation of the Nemurians' decree.

  "The fire will consume the rock," Nok'ka said.

  Noran waited but there was no further explanation. He ran through the words again, turning them over in his mind, trying to figure out the meaning. Nok'ka turned and started back towards the crevice leading out of the chamber. Noran was glad that he had not been killed yet, but that did not seem to indicate anything of his future life prospects.

  "Wait!" Noran called out. Nok'ka stopped and looked back. It was impossible to tell if she was sad or happy with the decision. "The fire will consume the rock? In simple man-thought, with man-words, what the fuck does that mean?"

  OORANDIA, OKHAR

  Midsummer, 213th year of Askh

  I

  Since the time of Askh there had been an accepted informality between an Askhan king and his generals. As he lowered himself to both knees, Lutaan wondered why Urikh thought himself better than all of his predecessors, but he was not about to voice any objection. The newly-appointed commander of Askh's army could see the shapes of Urikh's creatures moving in the twilight; the same twilight that had swathed Askh and followed the army as it had marched hotwards to Oorandia. By the latest ringing of the watch it was an hour after High, the middle of the afternoon, but the storm clouds that swathed the sky turned everything to a dusky red. At night lightning of different colours flickered above, and the men huddled in their tents while the things of shadow prowled the camps.

  Urikh sat on his throne, which had been placed upon an ornately carved palanquin that had to be carried on the backs of four abada and needed twenty men to lift and lower it. Golden icons were fixed at the four corners of the platform, bearing not the face of Askhos as had been tradition since the founding of the empire, but a gilded resemblance to the new king. There had been no complaints voiced against the change, not when the creatures allied to Urikh had been sighted issuing forth from the capital to join the army, following the captains of the First who had brought the decrees of the king to Lutaan and the legions he had assembled. B
lack-robed Brothers, many of them as terrified as the soldiers it seemed, kept their eyes and ears alert for any sign or word of dissent. Legionnaires that had been brothers in battle for years watched each other with suspicion, willing to offer up long-held comrades in return for diverting accusations of treason from themselves.

  Lutaan risked a glance up at the king, but Urikh had yet to acknowledge his general's presence. The empire's ruler wore the Crown on his head and black robes threaded with precious metals. His hair had been bleached white – or so Lutaan thought, though he had heard whispers that terror had paled the king's hair on the first night of the shadow-creatures' arrival. The king was speaking with the golden-eyed husk of a man that led the Brotherhood. Urikh's mania was disturbing to witness, but Lakhyri's presence brought hushed dread wherever he appeared, always accompanied by at least one of the shadow-monsters. There was one of the things with them now, a tentacled blot in the gloom, stretched between the two icon poles at the back of the palanquin. Clusters of diamond-like orbs met the general's gaze and he quickly lowered his head.