The Warrior's Tale (The Far Kingdoms, Book 2)

by Allan Cole, Chris Bunch

  “So, to answer your question, my friend — there is much you can do that I cannot. At least, I pray that is so. Perhaps it is Rali Emile Antero who holds the key to that barred portal.”

  “What would you have me do?” I asked.

  “Find the Archon,” he said. He drew out the box containing the talisman heart.

  I didn’t argue, but the dread increased to heavy, throbbing pressure as I took the box from his hands.

  “Hold it between your palms,” he said. “Send your thoughts into it. You must focus as hard as you can. Do not speak, or cast about for words for a spell. I will say them for you.”

  I swallowed, then said, “Give me a moment to prepare myself.”

  I breathed deeply, emptying my mind as best I could. I rolled my shoulders to loosen them, turned my head from side to side to stretch the muscles. Then I grasped the box firmly between my palms and drew in one last long breath. I whooshed it out.

  “I’m ready,” I said.

  And Gamelan began:

  Cast wide the net

  Mother Fate;

  Haul in the catch

  Thy daughter seeks;

  East to the portals

  Where the Old Gods wait;

  And sit in judgment

  Of he who hates.

  I heard a thunderclap and the room darkened. The air became heavy and hot. I smelled sandalwood — my mother’s scent. It was stronger than ever before. I heard a voice whisper: “Rali.” It was my mother’s voice and I wanted to weep, I loved her so, missed her so. Again she whispered my name and I felt her breath at my ear, delicate as a butterfly’s wing. I shivered.

  The box gave a hard lurch in my hands. I gripped it tighter. I saw a red glow burn through. It was the twin-headed lion symbol of the Archon’s. The lions bared their teeth, then shot away to hover against the far cabin wall. Then I heard a beast hiss and saw a great black panther crouching beneath them. Her teeth were bared in a snarl and her tail lashed furiously. The fiery red lion heads grew larger. Then a mighty body formed to carry them. They roared, heads snaking out on a thick single neck. But it only made the panther angrier. She hissed again and crouched lower to the deck, her claws scything out and her legs tensing to leap. Another thunderclap — and a dark hole opened behind the Archon’s beast.

  The heads gave another roar and then the beast plunged through the hole. The panther sprang after them.

  My mother’s voice whispered: “Follow.”

  Without warning I was in a maelstrom. I was falling from a great height through blackness and swirling lights. My ears were filled with the sounds of howling things, baying things, and things that shrieked in endless pain. I smelled sulfur and blood and fear-voided bowels. I was cold, so cold. Cold as a knife cut in winter seas. Cold as the Seeker’s Rain that comes but once every hundred years and kills forest, field and folk. Then I was no longer falling, but running through fire-blackened woods.

  The trail was narrow and rock sharded and I nearly lost my footing when I stepped on a huge white worm slithering across the path. I was afraid, but I knew I was the pursuer — not the pursued. Ahead I saw the panther bounding around a turn and I ran faster still. As I ran I saw demons gibbering in leafless trees. I saw ravens feasting on wounded soldiers who cried out to me as I passed, “Help me, help me, please.” But I couldn’t stop, dare not stop, but only follow the panther racing along the trail.

  I burst out of the dead forest onto a snow covered, moonlit plain. The path became a ruined road and I had to leap over crumbling rock and blasted mounds of rubble. There was a battle raging on the plain. Warriors were flailing with swords and axes and the snow was littered with their corpses and stained red by their blood. In the distance I could see the panther; farther still, the Archon’s beast. Framing them was the hump of a black mountain; lightning blasted in its peaks.

  The road climbed that mountain; the grade was steep, slippery with ice, and I was tiring. But the panther was beside me instead of in front of me; and she was urging me on. I forced myself forward and soon we were coming out of a pass. A black steel castle crouched where the road died. It looked like a demon’s skull, with turrets for horns, battlements for brows, and a torch lit gateway for a mouth. I saw the Archon’s beast bolt through the gates, which began to swing closed behind it.

  The panther leaped ahead, but it was too late and the gates crashed shut. The panther screamed and fought at the bars. Its fury set my own blood to boil and I railed with it, gripping the iron work and shouting my battle cry.

  I saw the Archon. He was in the courtyard with the twin-headed beast at his side. This time he was no immense visage in a cloud, but man-sized. But he was no less fearful and when he saw me he jabbed a twisted finger at me and shouted:

  “Begone!”

  Fire blasted from that finger and struck the bars. I cried out in anger and pain as the hot iron seared my hands. I gripped harder, determined not to let go. I smelled my own flesh begin to burn and then someone close by shouted in my ear:

  “Rali! Rali!” It was Gamelan.

  I released the bars and fell back. Then I was in the cabin, still shouting defiance. The talisman box had fallen to the floor where I dropped it. The black husk of a heart lay next to it. Gamelan had an arm about me and was saying:

  “It’s all right, Rali. It’s all right.”

  I shuddered back to full awareness and said, “I’ve returned, wizard.”

  My left hand throbbed with pain. I opened it and burned on my palm was the Archon’s brand — the twin-headed lions.

  “Is he still with us?” Gamelan asked. “Does the Archon still threaten?”

  “Yes,” I said. “He’s here.”

  After I told Gamelan all I’d seen, he said:

  “This is extremely serious, my friend. The Archon has managed to create a base of power in one of the spirit worlds. He must have become very powerful, indeed.”

  “But we just defeated him,” I said. “He should be less powerful, not more.”

  “Evil nurtures evil, Rali,” the wizard said. “Greycloak unwittingly proved that. The Archon fed on all the spilled blood, all the terror, all the sorrow. The defeat only stopped him from devouring more. And when he ate The Sarzana’s soul . . . Ah, that must have been equal to a hundred dead.”

  “What do you think his purpose is?” I asked.

  “That takes no soothsaying at all,” Gamelan said. “I know my enemy. First, he wants revenge. He wants to destroy Orissa so not even its memory lingers. Second, he wants even greater power. To create a kingdom in this world. I don’t believe Orissa, Lycanth and even the Far Kingdoms themselves would satisfy him. Think of a dark demi-god and you know what sort of creature we’re dealing with.”

  “How do we stop him?” I asked.

  “We must return to Orissa as quickly as possible,” he said. “If all our Evocators act in concert we can defeat him.”

  His tone was less certain than his words. But I’d worry about how well our Evocators would do when — and if — we reached home.

  “About the panther,” he said. “It worries me.”

  “I assumed it was a good omen,” I said. “It’s undoubtedly the panther from the tale my mother told me. The one my namesake rode to help the villagers.”

  “Yes, I know,” Gamelan said. “Still . . . when I held you . . . just before you . . . returned . . . you screamed.”

  “Yes,” I said. “So?”

  And the wizard said: “You sounded just like a panther.”

  * * * *

  In Isolde, the entire island turned out for our return. The sea was so full of welcoming boats and ships it was difficult to navigate the bay. Crowds lined the embankment and the streets that led to the docks. Every instrument, every horn, drum, fife, drum and even pots pans was employed in joyous noise making. The city’d been scoured clean and banners and flags fluttered from every high place.

  Bonfires burned in crackling profusion and the people fed a royal fortune’s worth of incense in th
ose fires to perfume the air. Thousands upon thousands of flowers were strewn in our path as we marched off the ships and up the terraced hill to carry official news of our victory to the lords of the Konyans. First in line were all the Konyan officers who’d survived. Then came me and my women, and Cholla Yi and his men. Princess Xia chose to march at my side and the already hysterical crowd wept when they saw her, and prostrated themselves, calling out her name.

  When we reached the Palace of Monarchs we stood for hours while each member of the Council of Purity — their voices magnified by the wizards — praised us and hailed our victory. Finally, the crowd grew unruly and demanded Princess Xia and I mount the stage so they could see us. They screamed when we did and I saw men and women alike collapse, they were so overcome.

  When they finally wore down, Lord Kanara tugged at my sleeve, motioning. Princess Xia and I slipped away with him. Once in the palace, he led us to a small, richly decorated room. There was a table set with food and drink. He motioned for us to partake. Both of us shook our heads — we were too tired.

  “But I’ll have a little brandy, father, if you please,” Xia said.

  I said I’d like the same. Lord Kanara filled crystal goblets for us, and another for himself. He sat down and we did the same.

  “My daughter,” Kanara said, “you have made me very proud.”

  Xia bowed her head, humble. “I only did my duty, father,” she said. But I could see from the look in her eye the humility was an act.

  “Just the same,” her father said. “It was a great thing. You have written your name large in our history, my girl.”

  I saw Xia shudder when he addressed her as a girl. But she said: “There were others much braver than I, father,” she said. “But thank you just the same.”

  “There will be many honors bestowed on you,” he said. “Some, it shall be my pleasure to grant with my own hands.”

  Xia smiled modestly. “Thank you, father,” she said. And she sounded most sincere. But again I caught that look, and I swear she seemed to be measuring her father. I believe she found him smaller than she once thought.

  “And you, Captain Antero,” Kanara said. “We owe you much.”

  “I only ask help with charts and good advice on how we can return home.”

  “You shall have it,” Kanara said. “The charts have already been prepared. The counsel of best seafarers is at your disposal.”

  “Thank you, Lord Kanara,” I said.

  “We also intend a greater reward,” he said. “We have agreed your ships will be filled with all the treasure they can hold. When you return home even your lowest sailor shall be rich.”

  Once again, I thanked him. And he said, “Is there anything else? Any wish we might grant that has not been anticipated?”

  I looked at Xia. But I didn’t need to see her expression not to ask for the first thing that leaped into my mind. So, I asked him the second.

  “I would beg you to pardon all the men and women in your dungeons, Lord,” I said. “If you recall, I was your . . . guest . . . there. And I met and befriended many of its inhabitants.”

  Kanara frowned, and when he did so he looked remarkably like his daughter. Then he smiled: “It shall be done,” he said. He drank his brandy. I could tell he was gathering himself for something else.

  Finally: “Now, I have a request of you, Captain,” he said.

  “If it is within my power,” I said, “I shall do anything you ask.”

  “All of you Orissans must leave at once,” he said. “And leave quietly.”

  “Father!” Princess Xia said, shocked. “How could you — ”

  I raised a hand. “It’s all right, Your Ladyship,” I said. “I take no offense.” Then I turned to her father. “You still fear The Sarzana,” I said. “Or, at least the curse that has been foretold for she who killed him.”

  “I think it’s a lot of superstitious nonsense,” Kanara said. “But others do not. They take it quite seriously. They are afraid of what will happen if you tarry long.”

  “Then I shall go as quickly as possible,” I said. “Besides, I have reasons of my own to get home as swiftly as I can.”

  Lord Kanara relaxed, quite relieved. He raise his brandy and made a toast: “To Orissa,” he said. “May the gods bless her for sending her daughters to us in our time of need.”

  “To Orissa,” I echoed.

  As I drank a feeling of great longing for the city by the river overcame me. Without asking, I refilled my goblet and drank again.

  * * * *

  The following night I saw Princess Xia for the last time. She came to my villa and we walked quietly in the garden, enjoying the silence and the smell of the blooming hyacinth. Down in the harbor we heard a lyre playing an old sweet melody of love gained and lost. We embraced and I kissed her. Her lips were soft — heady as wine. I drew back, feeling her nipples stir against my breasts. I looked deep into those dark eyes, and at her hair, with its golden tiara glowing in the moonlight.

  “I’ll miss you,” I said.

  She pulled away, disturbed. “And I, you,” she said.

  She walked to the fountain and sat. I rested a boot on the rock facing and waited. “I suppose it’s just as well that you’re going,” she said.

  “That has the sound of someone with plans,” I said. “Plans my presence might interfere with.”

  She nodded. “A lot of things have become much clearer to me, lately,” she said. “I have you — and the example of your Guardswomen to thank.”

  I said nothing. She raised her head and looked at me. Her face was a perfect subject for a royal portrait.

  “I want you to know this,” she said. “In a few years, if any of your people wish to open trade with Konya, they will be welcome. This I promise.”

  “Is that an influential brat I hear speaking,” I said. “Or, a future queen?”

  She laughed. But there was no real humor in it. It was forced, such as when royalty laughs to show it’s a good fellow; as able to take a jest as any of us commoners.

  Then she said, archly: “You’ve guessed my secret, oh, wise Captain.”

  “That you’ll be queen?” I said with a smile. “No wisdom in seeing that. I think I’ve known it all along. You’ll make a good queen. I’d lay money on that. But what about your father?”

  “It shouldn’t be too difficult to convince him to support me,” she said. “And if he is . . . reasonable . . . Well, we shall see. We shall see . . .” She left the remainder of the threat in its sheath. I pitied her father if he stood in her way.

  “One other thing, Rali,” she said. “I hope this doesn’t hurt you . . . I’d never want to cause you pain. But if you should ever take it in your head to return . . . please don’t.”

  “The Sarzana’s curse?” I said, knowing that wasn’t the reason. But I wanted her to say it.

  “I’m my father’s daughter in that,” she said. “Pure nonsense. However, my plans require that I eventually marry. I’ll need a consort to father children. The Kanara line must be continued.”

  “I can see where I’d get in the way,” I said.

  She rose from the fountain and took my hand. Her breathing was suddenly heavy. Lust glittered in her eyes.

  “I want you, now Rali!” she said. ”Please!”

  And I said, harsh: “Take off the crown!”

  My words startled her. She hesitated, then nodded. Her hands lifted the tiara free of her curls and she handed it to me. I threw it in the fountain and swept her up into my arms and carried her up the stairs to my bed.

  Just as dawn broke she wept. “Oh, Rali,” she wailed. “I’m so sorry.” It was a long, bone shuddering fit of tears such as I’ve rarely seen.

  “Don’t be sorry, my love,” I said. “I’ll be fine. I’ll never forget you . . . but I’ll be fine.”

  She looked at me, tears flooding from those beautiful eyes.

  “I’m not crying for you, Rali,” she sobbed. “I’m crying for me.”

  * * * *r />
  We set sail in a heavy rainstorm and there was no one on the docks or the hills to say farewell. But the seven ships that were all that was left of our fleet sat low in the water, heavy with golden coin and other riches. But the greater gift were the charts in Cholla Yi’s stateroom the Konyan mapmakers and wizards had labored on so we could find our way home.

  I’d redisposed my women. There was only a handful left, and I’d gathered them under my command on Stryker’s galley. I couldn’t chance letting them be dispersed on all seven ships, since I still had no trust in the mercenaries, particularly now, with gold in their purses. I also wanted them close at hand — the butchery had sickened all of us, and it would be best if the Maranon Guard licked its wounds together as it always had.

  The rain was cold and made a miserable parting from those enchanting isles, but the east winds blew steady and strong, carrying us swiftly toward Orissa. The rain and wind was unrelenting, but there was no danger in them and those of us not engaged in sailing fell into a stuporous routine of eating and dreamless sleep. This way many days went by with so little incident that we barely noted them and before we knew it, we were near the straits the Konyans had marked that would carry us around the fiery reefs.

  It was as gray and windy a day as all the others. Visibility was poor, but far to the North there was an eerie glow in the sky and we could hear the distant rumbling of the volcanoes.

  As predicted, there was land to the south. We’d been advised to hug its shores to make certain we’d avoid the northern reefs. But we’d also been warned not to tarry long — the Konyan wizards said the spells they’d cast to help chart the course encountered much evil in that land. Warily, we crept through the straits, ship by ship, and although we saw nothing all of us felt a sense of dread. When my ship passed the narrowest part of the passage my hackles rose as if I were being watched by many eyes. Just at the edge of my vision I thought I saw the panther crouching low on the deck — teeth bared, tail lashing. But when I turned to look, it was gone.