The snakes on his shoulders rose, copper eyes glittering. They opened their mouths and struck the oncoming dragon. It happened too quickly for the eye to follow. The dragon let out a high sound, darting backward. The harsh, copper-skunk stench of dragon fear filled the air. It was a smell that only two humans before had ever smelled. The dragon approached again, sniffing the air around Zohak curiously. Its head darted back whenever the two snake-dragons attached to Zohak’s shoulders reared up. It seemed that they had come to some sort of understanding.
Zohak looked to where Atar was hiding and pointed. The snakes on his shoulders looked toward Atar and he could see the malevolent intelligence in their eyes. He was on his feet before he knew what was happening. Atar turned to flee and felt the enormous dragon pounce after him with the terrible speed of a reptile. He screamed and then felt a terrific blow send him flying. He flailed through the air, just barely hanging on to his mace. Then the ground rushed up to smack him painfully. Atar groaned, but managed to turn over. The dragon was slithering right at him, wide jaws open, beak widened to reveal wet, razor sharp teeth. Then the dragon’s head turned. Atar’s head lolled back. He was in a sea of pain. Through the slits of his eyes he saw only red. Was it the dragon’s open mouth, or his own blood? He blinked, trying to clear his vision.
Then he saw Bulliwuf in his human form. He grabbed the mace from Atar’s hand and with a howling roar, he struck the monster’s cheek so hard that the scales crumbled to the ground like so much crystal. The beast bellowed and waved its clawed hands in a paroxysm of pain and anger. Bulliwuf swung the mace again and teeth fell like great spears, barely missing Atar. The dragon’s roars cut through Atar’s daze.
“Hurry, get up if you wish to live,” Bulliwuf screamed.
Atar scrambled up and as they ran, he turned to see the dragon waving its hands in front of its head and pounding the ground with its huge tail. Zohak had turned and was hurrying away as if frightened.
Wild eyed, bloody and frantic, Atar reached the men. Rain began to fall. As Atar opened his mouth to speak, he stopped when a hideous laughter floated to them. It was deep with satisfaction. It rolled off the rocky hills like thunder.
“Hurry,” Atar shouted in Persian. In his haste, he stumbled on a loose stone and barked his shins painfully against the unforgiving rocks. The soldiers wasted no time in following him in his desperate flight. The laughter followed them as they scrambled away through the rain that now poured from the sky.
* * * *
That laughter was echoed in the Realm of Fire. The goddess watched Atar’s miniature form hurry down the rocks. He tripped and sprang back up, fleeing headlong through the rain.
“Very well done,” the goddess said, her silken voice sending the fires around her to dancing. “The werewolf has defeated the dragon and released the rain, but the snake-shouldered king has taken the credit.”
Chapter Three
“Bravely, bravely, the Prince and his helper fled,
Bravely, Bravely, they scurried off to bed!
Across the way, across the land”
“Somebody silence him! I can’t take it anymore,” Atar roared in heavily accented Persian as he cleaned his painful wounds by the light of the meager fire. The pelting rain kept trying to put it out. The wood was wet and the ground was mushy. Atar was in a temper. Bulliwuf’s tongue lolled out indolently.
Sugreeva stopped mid-wail and turned to Atar, who was glaring at him. He smiled. “You want an encore? I shall be happy to oblige you, faithful savage. Fetch me some wine to clear my golden throat.”
Atar tried not to grind his teeth.
General Monases came over to him with a plate of food. Atar accepted it with a nod of thanks.
“Six have left us,” General Monases said.
“How dare you ignore the royal command?” Sugreeva squeaked at Atar, who continued to ignore him.
“Just as well,” Tiridates said, coming over to sit near them. “Those fellows were never very stable. They were never any good in a fight.”
Atar stared at the mush in front of him. His mind was racing.
“Sugreeva the Mighty, with his little friend
Thundered down the mountain, fleeing in the end-”
Atar cursed in Paralatae as Sugreeva’s singing cut into his thoughts. Sugreeva nodded acknowledgement and continued.
“They camped that night under the moon,
Hoping Sugreeva would plan for them soon.
Sugreeva lifted his face to the rain
The hero was suffering lots of pain
He dashed hair out of his eyes,
Um, eyes? Let’s see, pies, size, uh…”
Wordlessly, Atar began to gather his meager possessions. Sugreeva did not notice, but the two generals looked on in consternation. Atar had judged them correctly in assuming they would not try to stop him if he chose to leave.
Mage! Atar called out to Heslin. Atar was learning more Persian every day, but just then, he was too furious to bother with the tedious task of translation. Tell them all that I wish them long life and lots of beer.
“You…you’re leaving?” General Tiridates asked.
Bulliwuf’s ears pricked. The enormous wolf stretched his legs, groaning, but he made no move to get up. Atar hoisted his pack in one hand and grabbed his mace in the other.
Atar heaved his pack over Ishria’s rump and began to secure it. The others looked on in dismay. Heslin gaped like a flycatcher. Sugreeva stopped composing.
“What…hey? Hello? Where’s he going?” Sugreeva said in a worried voice. Bulliwuf watched him through half-closed eyes.
“He’s leaving to wherever he was headed before he led the armies, I expect,” General Monases said.
“What do you mean?” Sugreeva said. “You’re leaving for good?”
“Yes, it is good,” Atar said, glad that Sugreeva agreed with him.
“No! I order you to stay here. You can’t just leave. You…can’t just…stop him!” Sugreeva ordered imperiously. His face reflected his alarm. Atar swung into the saddle. “Wait!” Sugreeva said, on the verge of tears. “Please …” Tears cascaded down his face. “I need you. Don’t you see? Now Zohak will be the emperor. He’ll kill me without you there to protect me. And what about Princess Sophene? Do you want her to die? And Queen Cunaxa too?” He began to sob in hopelessness, heedless of the gawking soldiers.
Bulliwuf called to him mentally. Atar turned. You will do as he says.
“I will not. Why the hell should I? Let’s go. The summer isn’t getting any longer.”
Sit down, oh Atar.
Atar frowned and muttered an obscenity as he reluctantly dismounted. Heslin was whispering to the others. Atar looked at Sugreeva. Big wet tears rolled down his face. Atar crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Bulliwuf.
Bulliwuf rolled onto his elbow and smiled at Atar with his great tongue lolling out.
“Well? Could you explain what you mean by this, my friend?” Atar sat down heavily.
“Oh I’m so glad. Let’s be friends.” Sugreeva said happily.
Atar did not understand the rest of Sugreeva’s rapid fire Persian, but Tiridates and Monases looked at each other askance.
You have a responsibility, Bulliwuf said.
“Responsibility? What responsibility? To them? They would like nothing better than to see…”
Look at the helpless prince. What will happen to the kingdom now that Zohak is emperor? He is quite right.
“So what?” Atar asked sullenly. “Why should I care about that?” He drew up his knees and sulked. He would stay. Sugreeva certainly had to stay. If he went back, he would be killed. The rain continued to pour down.
Chapter Four
Zohak could hear Meruzanes stop speaking as the hissing of his snakes filled the Council Chamber. The candelabras were all lit to make up for the lack of light from outside. The gray skies were releasing torrents of rain. People danced in the streets, delighted. They had hailed Zohak as he rode past them with the si
x deserters. Meruzanes put the parchment down and looked up. The rows of leather seats in front of him were nearly all occupied, although Zohak guessed that no one really cared about the proposal the man was reading. They were waiting to see him, the one who had killed the Drought Dragon.
Zohak walked into the Council Chamber, his snakes waving gently in the air. He forced an impassive expression, but he couldn’t erase the slight smile that played about the corners of his mouth. He was satisfied to hear Queen Cunaxa suck in her breath as he descended the stairs. His eyes met hers and his terrible smile widened a fraction of an inch. The six soldiers were behind him.
When Zohak reached the dais, he looked at Meruzanes briefly then he turned to his mother. “Well, Mother, I guess I am to be emperor despite your best efforts.”
No one said a word. Zohak grinned then he chuckled. His chuckle deepened into a roaring laughter that echoed off the high ceiling of the chamber. Cunaxa rose from her chair and fled from the dais, pressing her hands to her ears. Meruzanes did nothing. His eyes were lit with a kind of fascinated horror that gave Zohak pleasure.
Zohak approached Hergor’s old throne. The candles glowed golden on the scene. The jeweled crown and gold scepter were still on his seat. Zohak was filled with a thrilling sense of wonder and accomplishment. His eyes glimmered with tears as some wonderful, strong emotion washed over him. All his adult life he had waited for this precious, timeless moment. How he had lived and relived this victory in his thousands of fantasies.
With trembling fingers, he picked up the crown. The jewels winked and glittered a welcome. Through the tears in Zohak’s eyes, their shimmering fire was intensified. The crown was so beautiful. The weight of it sent a thrill through him. It reminded him that this was no fantasy. He felt a tear trace down his face and into his beard. He slowly lifted the crown, reveling in the scores of eyes that he felt burning into his back. He lifted the crown over his head.
The hairs on the back of his neck rose with the aching, thrilling anticipation he felt. Then he settled the crown on his head. A thrill of pure, electric pleasure lifted his heart to the heavens. He turned, cape swirling to face the court.
His court.
Clang, clang, clang.
The bejeweled, gold scepter hit the stone steps of the dais, bouncing on each one. The sound was sharp and unnatural. It was not the sound of gold on stone. It was the sound of iron on iron.
Zohak hastily retrieved the scepter, averting his face until he got his terror under control.
The next few hours shone in his memory, blazing with the intensity of his satisfaction. Outside, the world grew darker, yet the nobles continued to come to him, kneeling and swearing their allegiance. His mind began to wander as the last hour ticked by.
He grinned, thinking about it. Oh, Mother, he thought, as he sat on the throne. Dear, dear, Mother. We need to chat. Abruptly, he rose and left the Council Chamber, leaving three very confused noblemen gaping and probably wondering what they had done to offend him. He didn’t care.
His footsteps rang on the stone as he ascended the stairs to Queen Cunaxa’s tower. The sound preceded him. He took his time, relishing the experience. He felt a black rage building inside of him. It was as cold and black as the deepest winter night in Scythia, yet this rage made him chuckle.
“Mother,” he said in a voice that to his ears sounded liquid and smooth. As he reached the top of the stairs, he felt laughter rumbling up from deep in his chest. The feeling of power was thrilling.
In her chamber at the end of the hall, Queen Cunaxa’s head shot up. She thought she heard something. She stared sightlessly out her window, out at the pouring rain. A cold, irrational fear began to unfurl in her heart.
“Mother,” the voice whispered again into the darkness.
Cunaxa shook her head, chiding herself for her fanciful imagination. But then she cocked her head. Faintly, she heard boots smacking against the stone corridor outside. Her breath caught. She began to tremble. Why was she so afraid? The footsteps drew closer. The pace was measured and slow.
“Oh the gods. Please protect me!” the Queen whispered. She turned, knocking over a chair in her haste. She cried out as her shin collided with one of the chair legs. Ignoring the pain, she stumbled over to the door and locked it. With the key in her hand, she backed away, staring wide-eyed at the door. The footsteps continued to approach. Desperately, the Queen began to pray as her heart pounded.
“Mother,” she heard him say. The doorknob turned slowly and she heard the twisting metal as the strong hand of the creature behind the door snapped the lock.
“No!” Queen Cunaxa said, tears rolling down her face.
The door opened and Zohak was there. His snakes undulated with hypnotic, sinuous precision.
“Mother,” he breathed stepping into the room as she backed away.
Chapter Five
The shivering town crier reached the settlement near the Dragon Caves. The torrential downpour obscured the outline of the town. This was the last of sixteen towns on his particular route and he was glad his circuit was over. Vainly, he squeezed water out of his dripping tunic. The news of Zohak’s ascension to the throne had, of course, spread like wildfire. The shocking murder of the beloved Queen sent shockwaves through the land. To his relief, people took note of him immediately, even as he approached, thanks to his distinctive uniform. Despite the rain, they assembled in the town square, eager for news.
The crier took up his position on two crates the people had supplied him. Unrolling the parchment, he took a deep breath. His eyes fell on an enormous man with a girl on his shoulders. Then his voice rang out clearly above the rain, “By order of the new Emperor, Zohak the Munificent, the Brave, the people of this land are to bring forth a tithe. This tithe will be composed of one third this year’s harvest and one third of the citizens of this town who are unmarried, to travel under the service of the Emperor to the capital. Every family must donate the unmarried of their families without exception. All marriages after this date will have to be approved by the royal accountants. This tithe will extend as far as the Emperor sees fit, or until the Emperor decides to raise the conditions of the tithe.”
A baffled silence descended. Kava the Blacksmith felt fear twist his bowels. The unmarried persons of my family? Do they mean to take the young ones? What madness is this? How am I to choose? Is this an honor or a punishment? What are our young going to do so far away at the capital?
He watched as the crier heaved a great sigh when people began to shout questions at him.
Kava remained silent as people stormed around him. His vision blurred with tears of gut-wrenching sorrow. They blended into the moisture that already beaded on his face. Somehow, he had a very bad feeling about this.
Princess Sophene the Sharp heard of Zohak’s return almost as soon as he walked through the doors of the Council Chamber. She pressed her fist to her lips, looking out her window at the pouring rain.
Honor be damned! she said to Kartir, her cat and familiar.
Finally, my friend, you exhibit some common sense. Hurry, there’s no time to waste. Kartir said, leaping down from Sophene’s shoulders.
Sophene hurried to her huge closet and rummaged around until she found the leather pack that she had used for part of her luggage. Working fast, she snatched two changes of clothes and a quilt from the bed. Warmer clothes would have been better, but she didn’t dare waste the time. There was just enough room at the top of the pack for a few days worth of food.
She was trembling now. She looked around her bedchamber wondering if she should take anything else. She changed her satin slippers for thick-soled boots and grabbed a dark gray waterproof cloak from a hook. Shielding her pack with her cloak, she headed for the kitchens with Kartir draped over her shoulders.
She was not just a princess. She was a mage. She would seek sanctuary in the temples of the magi. No one, not even an emperor would dare to harm her there. Not that Zohak was likely to. He had to deal with bigger problems.
/>
As Sophene fled the castle, another young woman laughed and hugged her mother. “The Emperor! I…I…don’t believe it!” she squealed, seeming to be fairly bursting with excitement. “And I won’t have to marry Gerfo now. I am so happy! Imagine, I will live in the Royal Palace.”
Her father watched his wife crying, but trying to hide the tears. He felt dread as his daughter grinned and dashed off to her room. She was of marriageable age and they were a well to do family.
But they weren’t that well to do.
“I…wonder. It just doesn’t seem possible. What would the emperor want with our daughter? She is as beautiful as the sun, but the great man could have anyone.”
The mother choked back a sob. “It’ll come to no good. Our dear daughter! The Emperor has never even been to this part of the city. There’s no way he could have seen her and fallen in love, but they say she will be a royal wife? It must be some terrible plot.”
They watched silently as the young woman came rushing past. She had put red roses in her hair. They matched the jubilant flush on her cheeks. Her eyes were dancing with the merry light of joy.
The mother and father exchanged a look full of dark foreboding.
Chapter Six
They had been riding for days. Atar had been too distraught and exhausted to think clearly on the night after his encounter with the dragon, but he had rounded on the two Generals the following dawn.
“Why do you stay? If you wanted to, you could go back to the palace.”
They gave him looks of disbelief. “Nonsense,” General Tiridates said. “What kind of soldiers would we be if we deserted a comrade? You are our general.”
Atar looked at him blankly, trying to unravel the tangle of words. He got the gist of it. “You mean, you…you…are going to accompany me? Where shall we go?” Atar asked.
K B Forrest - [Fire Chronicles 04] Page 3
