The Heir To The North

by Steven Poore

  This is not a restful place.

  Something must haunt this place . . . Another terrifying idea followed hard on the heels of that one, and she wished immediately she had not thought it. What if they came alive after dark? She glanced at the nearest of the stone soldiers. Its features were shrouded in darkness, and it didn’t take much to imagine it reaching out to pull her limb from limb, her blood soaking into the hungry cracks between the flagstones . . .

  A hand fell on her shoulder and she screamed, tore away and stumbled past the squared plinths, her arms flailing as she lost her balance and crashed to the floor between two of the statues. She twisted, skin scraping against rough stone edges, the knife jarred from her hand and skittering away into the shadows.

  It was as if thinking it had made it come true. One of the nightmarish shapes stepped down from its pedestal, one hand outstretched to squeeze the life from the trespasser who’d had the temerity to awaken it. Cassia shrank back as far as she could, another scream bubbling in her throat, but her back was pressed against another plinth, and there was nowhere to go. The creature reached down, and a shaft of fading daylight streaked across its face –

  “Meredith!” The scream exploded from her in a shout of pure relief. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  The Heir to the North pulled her easily to her feet and then seemed to lose interest in her, staring up into the darkened rafters. “Hush, girl. This place . . . listens.”

  Cassia was suddenly glad of the lack of light, feeling her face flush red with embarrassment and anger. She backed away from the circle of statues, frozen in rigid guard postures, and busied herself brushing the dirt from her dress. “You could have said something. Whispered, even. I was scared.” She picked up her knife and tucked it back into her belt. “What do you mean, it listens?”

  This is not a restful place.

  “We should not stay here,” Meredith said. “It is best left empty.”

  Cassia wasn’t about to argue, not while her heart still thudded like a blacksmith’s hammer. There was definitely something wrong with this shrine, or temple, or whatever it was, and with the sun now fully gone the fear of something creeping through the darkness towards her caused her to shiver worse than any winter chill. She fled the shrine on trembling legs, almost falling down the steps, and had picked up her sling of firewood even before Meredith had emerged from the dark.

  Even Meredith looked perturbed by the interior of the shrine, Cassia realised, as they walked back up the hillside. No matter what she tried, she could not engage him in conversation. He was locked inside his thoughts, even more distracted than usual. Her own thoughts veered back to the eerie chamber, despite her efforts to drive it from her mind. Who would build such a place, and for what reason? The stone legionaries, from what little she had seen of them, did not suit the lowlands and the broad plains of Hellea. They’d had the feel of the ancient North, of mosaics and paintings that glorified the bloody wars of the High Kings and the Age of Talons. But if that was the case, why would modern Hellea allow such a place to stand?

  Baum will know. Baum knows all of these places.

  As if he had been conjured by the mere thought of his name, the old soldier awaited them at the crest of the hill. He was not, Cassia discovered quickly, best pleased.

  “I told you not to stray by the road.” He glared down at her as though it was her fault alone. “If you cannot obey even the simplest instructions, what use will you be when we reach Hellea itself? I could leave you right here, you stupid girl.”

  She blanched, the excuse she had created for her diversion turning into dust in her mouth. Stupid girl. Just like her father always told her. No use to anyone. Baum did not really need her. He was only humouring her. Meredith and Baum continued across the hilltop, back towards the camp, but she stood alone for a few moments, her father’s voice taunting her with her inadequacies. You’re nothing but a girl. A useless girl. Who will take you on?

  Meredith looked back over his shoulder, and paused. “What is the matter?”

  The sling was suddenly too heavy for her to carry. She felt bowed beneath its weight, unable to trust herself to take another step without spilling the firewood onto the ground, along with the tears that threatened to burst forth.

  Meredith called to Baum. “Sir, this was not entirely the girl’s fault. She did not know precisely why we should avoid the road. Perhaps you should have explained that beforehand.”

  Baum stared at the princeling with an expression that verged on astonishment. “What?” He shook his head, and glared back at Cassia, but this time with less of the harsh anger he had turned on her before. “If I had to explain every step I took before I made it, I would have talked myself to death centuries ago. Come on – this is no place to linger. When we have set a fire, I will tell you why.”

  q

  “What did you see?”

  Cassia hesitated, still burned by his earlier words. Her position was less certain, she felt less trusting of him than before, seeds of doubt planted by his threat to abandon her.

  “It was like a temple,” she said, “but it . . . well, it just wasn’t. It felt all wrong, and there was nobody there except a collection of statues carved as the likenesses of soldiers. I didn’t see much else, it was too dark inside.”

  Meredith nodded. “I counted at least twenty figures. All were armed and armoured, as though for battle.”

  “What did you say?” Baum asked. “Did you speak any names at all? My name?”

  Cassia struggled to piece together the frantic moments she had spent inside that place. She remembered scraping her knees, skinning herself on the edge of a plinth, but very little aside from that.

  “The girl called my name,” Meredith said. “But neither of us said much more. We did not speak any other names.”

  The old man relaxed a little at that. “Then the danger is past.”

  Cassia bit her lip. “It was truly a dangerous place, sir?”

  “Oh yes. Make no mistake,” Baum turned his hooded gaze upon her. “The wrong words, in the wrong place, and our whole enterprise could have crumbled into dust. It is no shrine, nor is it a temple. The ground is not sacred to any god, unless it is the god of tyrants and demonic magic.”

  Intuition gave Cassia the beginning of the tale. “This is the warlock’s doing?”

  Baum favoured her with a thin smile. “The Man of Stone. Exactly so. After he had cursed and destroyed the High King and his lands, Malessar showed his true colours and joined forces with the city states on the Hellean plains. That much is known, how he shaped the Empire and stood as a shadow behind the throne for decades.” The disgust in his voice made evident what he thought of the warlock’s actions. “To secure his position, to prevent any desperate remnants of the Northern armies forming up to oppose him, he created those things you saw down there.”

  “The statues?”

  “They are not merely statues. They are abominations. Foul mimicries of mortal men, ancient spirits of the earth captured and re-cast in human form, cursed by a geas even the gods would hesitate to use.”

  Cassia shuddered, and glanced across at Meredith. The princeling wore a troubled frown, matching the mood around the fire. It was little wonder the shrine had felt so wrong, if it was home to such powerful magic. They were lucky indeed to escape unharmed, if what Baum said was true.

  “This is not a restful place,” Cassia muttered, half to herself. It seemed anybody who tried to rest at that shrine, whether or not they dared enter, would spend an uneasy night, haunted by the strength of Malessar’s spellcraft.

  “But they did not threaten us,” she said. “How are they cursed?”

  “While he guided the rise of the first Hellean emperor, Malessar made good use of the knowledge he found hidden in the cities of the plains,” Baum said. “He was careful to keep what he found to himself, or so he thought – even he could not create and arrange the experiments that followed without help from others.” The smile extended joylessly. �
�And, of course, he did not realise he was being watched. I found most of those who Malessar employed, and they told me much of his plans before he ended their service . . . and they were silenced.

  “When the first emperor ascended to the throne, Malessar came to his apartments and greeted him with the first of his new creations. Two soldiers of stone, marching in unison, armed with greatswords that no man could lift, let alone wield. The soldiers stood guard that night, and defeated the very first attempts on the Emperor’s life. The would-be assassins were torn limb from limb, and the last man alive threw himself from the roof rather than surrender to those monstrosities. I watched in anger and horror as Malessar used this demonstration of his unnatural powers to turn the Emperor into a puppet who would accede willingly to everything the damned warlock demanded.”

  He shook his head. “I tried. Damn him to all the known hells, I tried to stop what was happening. I could see where it would end. But there was only so much I could do without revealing myself, and Malessar would have destroyed me where I stood, without a moment’s thought, had I been so rash. You cannot imagine how often I have thought about the choices I made back then; how often I have wondered whether, if I had done things differently, the Hellean Empire might never have existed at all. How different this part of the world would have been now – perhaps Stromondor would never have been sacked, or the great herdsmen of the Berdellan plains might have risen to power instead . . . but we shall never know.”

  He fell silent, his mind clearly lost to those thoughts once more. Cassia shot a glance at Meredith and found him leaning forward, hooked on the old man’s every word. Perhaps Baum had never told him this much before.

  We shall never know . . . strange how the whole world might turn on the actions – or the inaction, she conceded – of one man. And yet, nobody in the stories she knew ever stopped to consider this. If they had, then their heroic deeds might never have happened, dashing young swordsmen and feisty heroines alike frozen by indecision and the weight of futures that would never be.

  I would need more than one lifetime to think on all this – and Baum has had several such lifetimes! Perhaps it is just as well the gods only give us a short span . . .

  “Tell me more,” Meredith said. Cassia startled – it was the first time she had heard him take an active interest in any of the tales she or Baum had shared.

  Baum blinked, rousing from his thoughts. “Hmm? Ah, of course. I forgot myself.” The anger in his voice had diminished, replaced by a more regretful tone. “The remainder is quick to tell. The Emperor wanted to secure his borders and his position, Malessar wanted to bury forever any trace of the Northern kingdoms. They worked together: the Emperor funding Malessar’s projects and, within the year, the first cohort of stone soldiers was completed. A great caravan of heavy wagons, each laden with one of the inert creatures, made its way north along the March toward the borders of this new empire. A new building had been erected there to house these monstrosities, the first of a score of such buildings. Call them shrines or temples if you will, but they are not consecrated. They only celebrate the mindless violence that Malessar brought to life. Thus his name, the Man of Stone.”

  Cassia wished for daylight again. Her imagination was all too good at conjuring up ranks of implacable, silent soldiers, their cold hands reaching out to seize her and crush her neck. She fought the instinct that told her to check over her shoulder. There is nothing behind me. Nothing. Nothing but an empty hillside.

  “They did not attack us,” Meredith said, sounding almost disappointed. Could he really have defended himself against a score of those monsters? Surely even his skills would fail against so many.

  “Of course not,” Baum said. “You posed no threat to the Empire. Unless you spoke ill of the Emperor, or of Malessar himself. Or you spoke the names of any of his old enemies. Myself included.”

  “Which we did not,” Meredith said.

  “Which you did not. Otherwise you would never have left that place alive.”

  In the quiet that followed, the crackling of the fire sounded like deadfallen twigs snapping underfoot. Cassia knew she would not sleep easy this night.

  “Have they ever awoken?” she asked.

  “Not to my knowledge,” Baum said. “If they did wake, then the devastation they wrought would certainly be recorded somewhere. Word would spread. I believe that was part of Malessar’s reasoning. He intended to cause fear amongst the surrounding cities, to force them into the fold without having to wage war against them.”

  Cassia knew no tales that mentioned giant, unstoppable stone warriors. Not that her father had known every story ever told, although he frequently proclaimed himself to be the best storyteller in the North. She though Baum was probably right. Perhaps the warriors had slept for so long they had forgotten how to wake. That in itself would make part of a fine story, she decided. Not something to stand alone, it would have to be melded with something else to give it the right degree of menace and tragedy.

  “They are under the Emperor’s orders?” Meredith asked. “That would make sense. These cohorts would be led against invading armies as well as recalcitrant neighbours.”

  “Correct,” Baum said. “And what does history tell us of successful campaigns against Hellea?” He fixed his gaze upon Cassia and waited.

  She squeezed her eyes closed as she recited the histories in her head. The Eastern Hordes were the greatest threat she had ever heard tell of, but the Hordes had never reached far enough to directly attack Hellea itself. Galliarca and Stromondor had borne the brunt of their campaigns against the Empire. And aside from the Hordes . . .

  “There are none,” she said.

  “Precisely.”

  “A good defence then,” Meredith said.

  That didn’t sound quite right to Cassia’s ears, but Baum had seen so much more of the world than she had. The inner workings of an Emperor’s court must be second nature to him.

  “What did he call these stone soldiers?” she asked, as much to break the sudden silence as to know the answer. An idea had planted itself at the back of her mind. With a tale such as this, told in the right fashion and to the right audience, she could surely make her name as a storyteller. This was something nobody else would have; when she told it, it would be something new.

  Baum shrugged. “He did not name them. Or at least, I don’t think he did. I never heard them called by any name other than the one the Emperor gave to them. Shieldmen, that first Emperor named them.” Disgust flitted across his features. “A dull name that doesn’t even hint at their demonic nature. That man was a fool, make no mistake. If he’d had any sense at all he would have fled the city and left Malessar to play his games with somebody else.”

  A disturbing thought occurred to Cassia. “When you defeat him, will these shieldmen rise up against you? Or will they break free of their spell and kill anybody they come across?”

  “In all truth, I do not know. I hope the magic will die along with him, but if it does not then perhaps the shieldmen will sleep undisturbed forever, unsummoned and unbloodied.”

  Baum looked away, and a pensive cast to his face told her this tale was ended. With her own mind filled with thoughts of marauding stone soldiers on the Emperor’s March, slaughtering every living creature in retaliation as the North rose up against the Empire’s yoke, Cassia barely tasted that evening’s meal, and sleep was a long time coming.

  I wonder if the Factor knows of these shieldmen? Can he awaken them? If the North is to ever regain its freedom, then Malessar must be defeated, otherwise everybody will die. It seemed a stark choice. She thought she wouldn’t have much of a problem with some of those deaths, at least – she had no love for Rann Almoul or his family, nor for her father now, as heartless as that might sound – but her mind rebelled when she tried to imagine Keskor despoiled and unpopulated.

  Her dreams that night flitted between glorious visions of Meredith skewering the warlock with his greatsword, and black nightmares in which the shieldm
en chased her through a lightless forest, the bare branches of twisted trees scratching at her face and arms. The ground was slippery, and when she fell over she saw her hands covered in a thick, dark liquid. No matter how much she scrubbed with the hem of her dress, the foul stuff would not come off. And the shieldmen closed in on her, their advance rhythmic and unstoppable.

  There is blood on my hands. There is blood on my hands –

  When that pulled her awake, her heart racing and her hands trembling, she sat by the dying embers of the fire, unable to even close her eyes, until dawn came around once more.

  Chapter Nine

  Another week of travelling brought them past the small town of Lobrith, which to Cassia’s eyes looked exactly the same as every other town they had passed. A persistent rain was falling, and she hunched shivering in the saddle, still shivery from the fever that had forced them to shelter for two nights in the hut of a generous shepherd, while she sweated it out and Baum grumbled and chafed at the delay. A small caravan of merchants caught up with them not far from the walls of Lobrith, and the trading master asked them to join him on his way to Elbithrar, going out of his way to praise Meredith’s obvious martial prowess. To Cassia’s surprise, Baum agreed to the deal.

  It made their journey much easier, and Cassia took full advantage of that. To begin with it was enough to find her strength again after her illness, to come afresh to the practice sessions with Meredith. They drew an audience of curious merchants, whose comments and laughter were enough to drive her to red-cheeked distraction until Meredith took their bouts out of sight of the wagons. But it was good to be able to talk to other people as well, and after a couple of nights on the periphery of the cookfires she summoned up the courage to try out a few of the stories she knew. Just to test out her voice, she told herself; to practice the rhythms and phrases her father had wielded so easily.