The Outlaw King: The Line of Kings Trilogy Book One

by Craig Saunders

  ‘I see you, little king. He does not know, does he? But I do.’

  Tarn was shocked at the words, but no more so than when his eyes adjusted to the meagre light. He strained his vision and looked into the corner where the words came from, and saw a form hunched there, chained by both arms against the wall.

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘My masters called me Y’xithil,’ he said.

  ‘That is a strange name.’

  ‘Come closer.’

  Warily, Tarn approached the man. He was chained, and no threat, but Tarn was taking no more chances, especially as he was so weak.

  He looked like no man Tarn had ever seen. The man cackled wildly at Tarn from the depths of the cell. Tarn moved in for a closer look. Sores were erupting on the man's face and arms. Tarn dreaded to think what was happening under the cover of his crumbling robe.

  ‘What are you?’ he said, trying to keep his voice even, although his disgust must have been evident.

  ‘I was once the Thane’s advisor. But no more. I am abandoned. He saw through me while that weak pretender Hurth could not see the truth. I am no man.’

  His features were almost human, but his gaunt face was somehow alien, as though he bordered on humanity but never quite managed it.

  ‘Yes, but what are you?’ Tarn found himself fascinated.

  ‘I am a Hierarch. We are your masters. Bow to me.’ Y’xithil laughed wildly at this.

  He was obviously delirious, but with his sores, who wouldn’t be?

  ‘The Thane of Naeth has an advisor that is of the same race, and he wants you dead. Yet here you are with me, and I am disgraced, and forgotten. My masters’ foresight is not what it once was. I was to be the Thane of Spar’s advisor, but his mind was stronger and he saw the evil there. I have been captive ever since. But I will not tell them where I come from. Nor you, for your fate is to be great. I have seen the future, even if their vision is flawed.’

  Tarn didn’t know what the man was talking about. ‘Do you know me?’ he asked.

  In obvious delirium the creature spoke with halting words, ‘Humanity is like a waterfall, my misshapen friend. It starts out in some long forgotten past, and flows ever onward, until it carves out a niche for itself in the rock bed of the mountains. That is where humanity lies at the present, waiting to join the great rivers. Even so, your place found, it is a human’s lot to move on, ever onward, and join the sea, where eventually all life becomes one. Perhaps, one day, each man will remember where he first joined the flow, and the passage that took him into the great body. Until then, Tarn, look forward to the sea, for it is majestic.’

  ‘How do you know my name?’

  ‘I see much, little king. I see that you will never be king. But neither will Hurth. You are like night and day, in between you only leave shades of grey, and no one, not even my race, can tell the future without a palette of colours to paint it with.’

  Tarn sat on the floor before the Hierarch. ‘What is going on here?’ he asked, in a conspiratorial whisper, even though no one would be able to hear him.

  ‘We saw the future. This small nation of yours, pathetic and always crumbling as it rises, falling back to ashes, has a great future in store. Once there were no people here, just beasts and birds, but you came, and you lived, against all possibility, carving a niche for yourself. My race had not foreseen the future then. But we know now. We would chain your people before the Return. I was to rule through Redalane, but he saw me for what I am. Hurth is not so perceptive. There is another of my kind with him, a being of greater power than I, called Merilith. Our masters have seen the role your line plays, and they are afraid. I am dying, though, and can do nothing about it. They have forsaken me, and I would see them suffer.

  ‘I would have you live, king of kings. That will be my revenge.’ He laughed, sending specks of pus from his cracked lips. Tarn cringed and wiped them from his shirt. ‘I am a petty creature, as are we all. Perhaps that will be our downfall. It would amuse me greatly to see that day come.’

  ‘What can I do, though? Merilith will know me for what I am, and I will be killed. You will not have your revenge.’

  The creature shook its head. It was so like a man, Tarn would have almost believed it was merely a gaunt human.

  ‘I have the gift of foresight. There is a way out.’

  ‘You know of some secret passage?’

  ‘No, but I know what you must do. You must trust Redalane. He is an honest man. You must, in turn, be honest with him. It is your only chance. He is stronger than I would have imagined. He is strong with compassion, and sensibilities. Tell him the truth. He will see the way.’

  ‘I cannot do that. He will let Hurth execute me. He already plans to trade me.’

  Tarn saw a ghost of a smile play across the Hierarch’s lips. ‘Trust that I have nothing to gain by seeing your death, and that I have powers which you cannot understand. You must do this my way, or your death is certain. Tell him the truth, he will set you free.’

  Tarn was silent for a moment. The strange creature regarded him without rancour, but with the light of hope in its eyes.

  Perhaps it wanted Tarn to die. Tarn could not discount that possibility. It might be evil, but Tarn could sense no intent to harm him. Besides, he reasoned, the Thane intended to send him to Hurth regardless, and Hurth knew who he was. He would certainly die if he did nothing about it.

  ‘I will think on what you have said.’

  ‘Think not too long. Redalane will return soon. Your time here is short, regardless of your decision. But I would ask one favour of you, in return for my saving of your life.’

  ‘And what would that be? I am in no position to grant favours.’

  ‘It is one you can manage, little king. I would ask that you end my suffering. My kind usually enjoy pain, but I am rotting from the outside in. I would not wait for madness to set in.’

  ‘I’m not sure it hasn’t already,’ said Tarn truthfully.

  ‘I am a seer. I may seem insane, but I am not yet that far gone. I would die before that happens.’

  Tarn was loath to kill the pathetic creature, but then he would not hesitate to put down a diseased animal. It would be a kindness. But he remained unsure as to whether the creature deserved any kindness.

  ‘We will see.’

  ‘Indeed we will,’ said Y’thixil. ‘But know one last thing, before I fade.’

  ‘What would that be?’ asked Tarn.

  ‘Redalane has a son. Hurth holds him captive within his castle. Only tell him this if all else fails. It will bring emotion to the fore, and I cannot guarantee a favourable outcome should that happen.’

  Tarn wanted to ask the creature more, but it fell silent apart from the ragged sound of tortured breathing.

  Tarn returned to the bench, where he lay with his hands crossed over his chest, and pondered his options.

  Redalane was not rumoured to be a cruel man. He was thought a just ruler by all within his reach, fair and hard by turns. Criminals were granted trial, sometimes in absence if they could not be found, but most were given a chance to defend themselves against accusations. But Tarn had been given no such opportunity. It did not seem right, from what he knew of the Thane. There must be some reason the Thane would hand him over to Hurth. Tarn knew there was no love lost between the two Thanes. He thought the Thane hoped to exchange him for his son. If that was the case, it would go hard for Tarn.

  But then perhaps his crime, of banditry, was harsh enough to warrant extradition. He had, after all, been party to the slaughter of the Thane of Naeth’s men. But he had been wanted since well before that.

  No, the Thane of Spar knew Hurth wanted him, but Tarn did not think Redalane knew why.

  Tarn mulled the problem over for an hour, until he drifted into a doze.

  *

  Chapter Eighty-Three

  He first became aware that he had fallen asleep when the rattling of keys woke him. A key scrapped against the lock, and light came in from torches bu
rning in the hallway. A guard entered, carrying a food tray. He put food beside the bench, and a bowl of cold gruel within reach of Y’thixil. The Hierarch did not seem to notice. He had a faraway look in his eyes, and Tarn guessed he would not be coherent even if he were to speak.

  ‘Eat your food, boy. You are our guest after all, we can’t have you starving before the trade.’

  ‘I need to speak to the Thane.’

  The guard laughed with apparent good humour. ‘You’re a fine one. A pardon, is it?’

  ‘No, I have news that will change everything.’

  ‘Why don’t you tell me? I’m all ears.’

  ‘I cannot. But I can tell you this: I know why the Thane of Naeth wants me. Tell your Captain, if you must, and I will talk to him. You know I am due to be transferred to the Thane of Naeth’s custody?’

  ‘I don’t know anything, boy. I just know you are not to be harmed. But if you insist on prattling I might have to teach you some manners.’

  Tarn sighed. ‘I am too weak to argue, but tell your Captain I am more valuable than the Thane realises. If the Thane will see me, even if I have to be in chains, I will tell him what he wants to know. He will see me.’

  ‘That’s what they all say.’

  ‘Tell him!’

  The urgency in Tarn’s voice must have swayed him, because after an hour or so passed – Tarn could not tell the passage of time – another man appeared at the door to the cell. He had intelligence evident in his eyes, something which had been noticeably absent in the guard. Tarn assumed he was the guard captain.

  ‘I am intrigued. I know you are going to be transferred. You are not our usual type of customer-- a bandit king, no less. What have you to say?’

  ‘I was wanted before I was a bandit king. The Thane knows this.’

  ‘Aye, I believe he does.’

  ‘Are you the Captain?’

  ‘That I am. You are young to be a leader of bandits. I heard they were led by a man who could not die.’

  ‘The rumours were exaggerated. I killed him.’

  The Captain eyed him warily. ‘Perhaps you did, boy, but it changes nothing. What would you have me tell the Thane?’

  ‘Tell him I know who killed the king.’

  The man laughed. Tarn hid his irritation. Everyone seemed to laugh at him in this cell. He was not finding it to his liking.

  ‘That was over twenty years ago. No one cares about that now. It was well before your birth.’

  ‘Just tell him that. He will speak to me.’

  The guard tutted and closed the door.

  Tarn could only wait.

  *

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  Days passed, and no one came to see him. The guards brought food, and Tarn implored them to have the Thane see him, but they mocked him, or simply ignored him. No one laid a hand on him, and Tarn did not try to escape. If he was forced to, he would try to escape when they moved him north on the open road, when he stood a better chance.

  He recovered from the blow that knocked him senseless, and spoke to Y’thixil during the Hierarch’s lucid moments, but these were few and far between. He questioned the creature, but mostly it just rambled. Sometimes Tarn doubted the strange being could even see him. It was as if it was in a trance.

  Then, on the third day of his imprisonment, Y’thixil looked up and called him over.

  ‘Now you really do owe me a favour. I have brought the Thane to you. Do what I said and you will be set free.’

  ‘What are you talking about? Called him to me?’

  ‘He comes. I have a little power left. Now leave me. I am in pain. I will leave this body again. In my dreams I am at least whole.’

  And Tarn could get nothing else out of him. But, against all reason, the door to the cell opened and Tarn saw Redalane standing there.

  ‘I am curious, bandit, as to why you are wanted. It seems I cannot stop thinking about it. Who are you to Hurth?’

  A guard stood beside him. ‘I can only tell you. What I have to say is too important for other ears to hear. Rumours travel fast, I have learned.’

  ‘Likely. I hear you are swift. You would no doubt try to kill me.’

  ‘Then put me in chains. We must talk for I fear time is short.’

  Tarn could see Redalane mulling this over. Whatever Y’thixil had done, he seemed to have planted the seed of curiosity in the man.

  ‘Do it,’ he ordered the guard.

  Chained, Tarn sat on the bench. The Thane told the guard to wait down the hall, and Tarn began to speak.

  ‘Hurth killed the king, back when he was young. The king’s son was never found. He was my father. That is why the Thane cannot wear the crown, because the line of kings still lives, in me. He wants me dead so he can take the crown. If he is king, he will rule this land with terror and iron.’

  Redalane watched him for signs of insanity, but he did not laugh. There was an intensity about Tarn’s eyes that almost forbade laughter. ‘And why would I believe you?’

  ‘Do you deny that the Thane of Naeth wishes to be king?’

  ‘No, I do not. But what proof have you of your claim?’

  ‘I could wear the crown. Bring me the crown and I will prove it.’

  ‘I can no more remove the crown than I believe a leader of bandits to be the king’s grandson.’

  ‘With the crown, I could prove it to you. But without your assistance, I could get it. I could kill the Thane. If you release me.’

  ‘I cannot do that. Whoever you are, you are valuable enough to trade. Hurth holds my son hostage.’

  ‘I am sorry, my lord. If you trust me, I will get him back for you. Even if you do not trust me, to give me to the Thane of Naeth would make you a vassal, and you might never get your son back.’

  The Thane seemed to be seriously thinking about Tarn’s claim. Tarn thought Y’thixil had no small part to play. It seemed that the Thane was acting under his own volition, but was more receptive to what Tarn told him. A subtle glamour, perhaps, of Y’thixil’s invention. It seemed the creature was not without power, still.

  ‘I can kill the Thane,’ he said, pushing just a little.

  ‘Believe me, boy, I have sent assassins before, but he always seems to know what is coming.’

  ‘That is because he has an advisor, a creature like this one, chained here. He can see the future. He knows when an assassin comes. But he will not see me. I have been shielded from all magic. I can pass undetected. And I have men. With your support I could get in. But you must set me free to kill the Thane, or my life is forfeit.’

  ‘I would like to see him dead for what he has done to me. I will think on it.’

  Whatever spell the Hierarch had laid on him seemed to be working. Tarn just hoped it would last for long enough.

  ‘Will you release my companion? What are his crimes?’

  ‘While I sense no evil in you, he is pure malice. I would no more unchain him than I would pet a rabid dog. Besides, I still think you are in no position to make requests. Goodbye, for now.’

  Tarn silently watched him go. It was a great gamble, telling the Thane of his heritage, but he hoped it would pay off.

  *

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  In the world outside the world, the soul sword slid free from Caeus’ chest, and the wound, and the rent in his red robes, filled in instantly, mist seeping from the tip of the sword into the holes.

  Light filled Caeus’ eyes, and he blinked.

  ‘Welcome, Kilarion. It is a pleasure to see you.’

  ‘Caeus. It is time.’

  ‘My friend. You have been teaching me all these years,’ said Caeus, ‘But I understand now for the very first time what I must do to gain my freedom. I have not been here to gain my freedom, but to grant you yours.’

  Kilarion was silent.

  ‘But I must ask you a small favour.’

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘Keep me for a while longer. This time, I will call you. I may be forced to break your rules, but
no matter, I will pay the penance. Until then do with me what you will. And I will set you free.’

  ‘You do not wish the contest?’

  ‘That is the favour that I ask. Can you bear to wait a little longer?’

  ‘What is a year in eternity? Do you not want your freedom?’ As Kilarion asked this, his thick tail quivered. Caeus could see the desire in him, but felt he was cheating the creature. The need for him to be free was so obvious now, but he could not grant it yet. It was not yet time.

  ‘I must decline. When the time comes we will both end this charade. Then, I will have something to do before I am put in my next prison.’

  Kilarion’s confusion was evident. ‘There is no next prison. Once you are free, you can return.’

  ‘The world cannot bear me. I must wait until the time is right for my return. Even now I am making preparations.’

  ‘I must confess, Caeus, I do not understand you.’

  ‘No, but I understand you. Bear my company a short while, then I will free you.’

  ‘This is my calling.’

  ‘But you hate it, do you not? You will be free soon, my friend. Put me under.’ He paused for a moment, and Kilarion saw a flicker of light pass through his prisoner’s eyes. It passed so swiftly Kilarion thought that perhaps his eyes were deceiving him. But he was right. The wizard said, ‘My preparations are complete.’

  Kilarion felt reluctance, and the wizard’s smile was disconcerting, but he thrust his sword in just the same.

  Something beyond the immortal’s experience was happening, and he was powerless to stop it. No mortal could escape the Castle out of time, but for some reason he thought Caeus had, just for a moment. Some part of the wizard had left, if only for a moment.

  What could the wizard possibly achieve in those seconds? It was perplexing.

  Kilarion sat opposite the wizard’s frozen form, hands on his knees, and contemplated the problem. There was no rush. He had a year alone with his thoughts. A year was nothing, but a strange feeling passed over the soul guardian, and it was uncomfortable and frightening. It was, he realised, after much quiet contemplation, impatience.