The Last King's Amulet pof-1

by Chris Northern

  “They should be proud of you. Tell them from me…”

  She stopped me. “Tell them yourself, when you are free.” She shook her head, smiling up at me. “My heroic fool, what were you thinking, going after Tahal?”

  I shrugged. “I don't know. It seemed like the thing to do. I needed to do something to redeem myself.”

  “I wish I could help you.” It was admitting that she couldn't. “If I had known where you were I never would have let them take the greater stone from me,” she frowned.

  Just then the shadow moved and I heard something, clearly a voice but nothing distinct enough to understand.

  “I have to go. Good luck, my love.”

  Well, I thought, when she had gone and I drifted through the fog back to a natural sleep. Love. She didn't mean it, of course. It was surely just a turn of phrase.

  113

  I don't know what time it was when I woke.

  At once I shifted to look down at Sapphire; his breathing had changed, become almost silent. Hoping he hadn't died I peered down at him and saw instantly that he was awake. His cold eyes held mine and I didn't know what to say to him.

  “I'm dying,” he told me, his voice emerging not much louder than a whisper.

  “No, you are hurt, but you will recover.”

  “I know the difference.” He was lying on his side, barely moving his head to look up at me. He spat with careful deliberation, using as few muscles as possible. The blood was pink and flecked with black clots.

  “The army is close. Help will be here soon.”

  He seemed to think about it, attention focused inward, then said. “Inside an hour?”

  I shook my head. “I don't know.” It was a lie even though it was true. The Eyrie might take only an hour to fall but even if they were attacking now it might be too late.

  “Liar.” He said without rancor. “I want you to do something.”

  “Anything,” I told him, meaning it.

  “If you get out of here, go and find the Ku Mirt.” He wasn't seeing me, I could tell. He was seeing something else. Something ugly. “Go and find them,” his voice was a whisper and I could barely hear him. “Go find them all, and kill them.” And then he went still.

  The Ku Mirt were the people who had taken him as a child and trained him to kill. He had been a child. I reflected briefly on what it must have been like for him. I couldn't imagine it. Didn't really want to.

  “I will, I promise.” I watched him. It wouldn't be long now. His breathing was painful to hear and each breath was longer in coming. There was nothing I could do, I had some stone but no spell I could use, never having spared the money to buy anything useful, saving it all for booze, and then I thought of something and acted without thought or hesitation.

  “T'k'la,” I said. “Ichalda, t'k'la!.”

  And, for me, she came.

  114

  Her expression had been unreadable as she looked at me, her faint radiance illuminating the cell, making it feel crowded. I had pointed to Sapphire and asked her again. Slowly, she had turned to look down at him and then it seemed that she seeped into him, that he soaked her up like a sponge. His breathing eased, he groaned in his sleep, then his eyes opened and she looked out at me. I don't know how I knew it was her but it was obvious. He sighed and his eyes closed and she was gone. After that he slept on as though nothing had changed, but when I looked his wounds were closed, his broken arm straightened, and he breathed more easily. He still looked pale from loss of blood, and I remembered Jocasta looking the same, her wounds healed but the body still weak and recovering. It might be some time before he rose and walked again; if he didn't have food and water when he woke he might still die. But at least it would not be now. And I had not done nothing.

  Time passed.

  There was nothing to do so I did nothing. I wanted a drink. There was none. I was shaking and sweating, the familiar onset of withdrawal symptoms. I knew they would get worse and never seem to stop getting worse. So I watched Sapphire breathe as I shook and shuddered. I cursed occasionally. It didn't help.

  I imagined four legions moving to surround the Eyrie, forming up, preparing to attack. Nothing happened so I imagined it again. I was waiting and wasting time. But there was nothing to do. I would be found here after the place was taken, freed, and then what? I'd not succeeded in my bid to do something spectacularly brave. I was doomed to my fate of poverty or exile. There was no way to change it now. Depressed just doesn't cover it. Sick, depressed, and desperate for a drink. Even so I couldn't stop thinking.

  To whom did the four legions belong? Three patrons? Four? Who were they? What did each plan when the battle was over? Would they divide, some heading home in triumph while others had other plans? Too many questions. Would one or more go into the mountains and prosecute a punitive war there? Surely someone would want to find out where the Necromancers came from and take vengeance on them? I shrugged the line of questioning off. None of that would help me. I checked Sapphire, still sleeping, leaned back to sweat and shake some more.

  I thought about the city; not my ignominious return there; that was something I shied away from. I had raised an army without authority, led it to disaster, they had been slaughtered to a man; and so on and so on. No. I thought about our system of government and tried to think what, if anything, could be improved. It was an abstract, something to think about. We ruled with a light hand, which was good. The patrons were more interested in their own business than the business of government and that was, on the whole, a good thing, I thought. Less bureaucracy, few institutions, no-one meddling in the lives of others. There were kingdoms with vast armies of bureaucrats, enormous administrations, laws for every area of human activity and people to oversee them and make sure they were complied with. Madness. We understood the iron law of bureaucracy and kept our institutions small, breaking them up and forming new organizations every half century regardless of how they were functioning. They became moribund and expensive over time, then sleek as greyhounds with no one involved but those who wanted to get the job done. It was cyclic and if a bunch of parasites who thought the bureaucracy was the purpose of the organization had to find a new living when we stripped the institution down and formed a new one, all to the good.

  I looked at each aspect of our society in turn and examined it for flaws. Seeing none worth thinking about I moved on. Only one really came to mind, that we had not held the territories taken and spread our system further.

  True, there were foxes and wolves amongst the lions of the patrons, some fools who believed that they knew better than anyone else and wanted to tell everyone else what to do and how to live, but there was no way they could get exclusive power over any but their client states. Some ran social experiments with other peoples, usually with dire consequences. Our system was good, with inbuilt mechanisms for the competent to rise but something about the foxes, the patrons themselves bothered me. 'Born to privilege, what do you know of suffering?' Kukran Epthel had asked. I couldn't help thinking he had a point, but exactly what point I wasn't sure, and so, deciding what might be done about it was…

  My train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a key being inserted into the lock. I had heard nothing, not a single footfall. I sat up straighter, looking at the door as it opened. There was nobody there. Goosebumps rose on my arms. “What the…?”

  “Be quiet,” Dubaku instructed me shortly, suddenly visible as he stepped into the cell and pulled the door closed behind him.

  “What…? How…?” The answers were obvious so I didn't finish the questions. What are you doing here? Rescuing me, obviously. How did you get here? Invisibly protected by his ancestors. I had seen him pull the trick before. It just hadn't occurred to me that he would do it for me or that he might be close enough to try.

  He didn't make any answers to my half formed questions, instead stood intent on Sapphire. “Did she come?”

  “You sent her?”

  He shook his head. “I do not send, Sumto.
I ask. When I felt her stirring, uneasy and dissatisfied, I could feel you had asked and so I asked that she answer, imagined you so she knew who I was asking for. She went from my awareness but she might have moved further from the world, not into it.”

  I nodded, knowing I didn't really understand even though what he said made sense. It was the best understanding I would achieve. He could feel the spirits that knew him, had a relationship with them that I could not understand. It didn't matter. What mattered was that she had come at my call and healed Sapphire as best she could. That mattered and I was grateful and said so.

  He bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment of my thanks. “Jocasta asked me to help you. So I have, and am. What do you want to do?”

  I stared at him and he returned my gaze with the by now familiar lack of expression. The question was incredible. What did I want to do? Get out of here, that's what I wanted to do! “I don't know,” I said. “Let me think.”

  “Think, then.” He said, sinking to a squat, his feet flat on the floor, arms wrapped around his knees. “The attack will begin soon. Maybe there is no need to do anything but wait.”

  Maybe. Dubaku could move unseen but we could not. I was in no state to carry Sapphire, weak and shaky with withdrawal symptoms as I was. Tahal had my ten carat stone, leaving me with only the one carat stone embedded in my skull. Granted, a face full of hot oil would put a man out of action but I didn't see that taking down a few individuals would be enough.

  “We should move,” I decided. “Right now they know where to come for us if they want us.”

  He nodded. “There is a room nearby where they store beer. We can go there without being seen.”

  I blushed to realize that part of my motive had been transparent to him.

  115

  The beer tasted good.

  Carrying Sapphire had been difficult but I'd stuck with it as we passed through storerooms and down wide corridors half filled with crates and barrels containing whatever they contained. By the time we holed up in the taproom, filled with barrels of beer of all sizes, I was shattered and hurting. We set Sapphire down, made him as comfortable as we could and I found a container and poured a beer.

  As I sat and sipped from the leather jack I had found, the shakes slowly went away, the sweats stopped and the more I came back to myself the more sitting here and doing nothing became unacceptable to me. Dubaku squatted a couple of yards away and watched me drink without expression or comment.

  What was Sheo doing? I was sure, on reflection, that he was an ally. Lentro must have told him about the last king's amulet, and when he had put me in prison he must have had a plan. Later, Kerral had come for Tahal, and now Tahal had the ten carat stone that Sheo had deliberately left with me. He had expected me to do something, to play some part in some plan of his. And Kerral also? And what plan? A plan to destroy Kukran Epthel? But Sheo knew me, he knew I didn't have much magic, leaving me the stone made no sense unless he wanted Tahal to have it. I ran through the spells Tahal had told me he had, with which we had planned to make an escape when the opportunity presented itself. When the time had come Tahal had not acted. So he must be an enemy, Turned by Kukran Epthel? Unaware of the last king's amulet? Certainly I had not told him about it. I shook my head, irritated at myself; no, he had not met Kukran, had been confused when I mentioned the lich. Still, he had cooperated for a time with the other Necromancer, and maybe had been placed in the cell to pump me for information. The thought irritated me. I hadn't questioned his legitimacy for a moment. Maybe I had given the ten carat stone to an enemy. That burned and brought me to my feet. Dubaku looked up at me as I paced between barrels of ale that demanded my attention.

  “You have a plan?”

  It was Kerral that had thrown Sapphire in the cell, not Sheo. Were they allies? Did Kerral leave some tool with Sapphire? Something to aid me, expecting that I would find it? Just knowing that would tell me a lot.

  I bent to Sapphire's unconscious form and began searching him swiftly but gently. I found what I was looking for in his boots; lock-picks, a small but wickedly sharp knife, and the ring that gave the wearer the look of a barbarian. I slipped it on and Dubaku blinked, once, like a shout of shocked surprise from any other man. So they were co-conspirators! Sheo and Kerral. They had expected me to find these, to use them. When? Were they waiting for me before they acted? Was I to be a trigger? The details didn't matter. I had to act or their plan could collapse and I had to trust that their plan had a good purpose and reason even though the army was here and the war almost over.

  I could stay here, wait it out, do nothing. The thought barely registered. There was no way I could do that. I needed to be doing something, needed to act, to succeed at something, and this is what was in front of me. Find Kukran Epthel. Kill him, or help kill him.

  “I'm going,” I said. Out of the vaults. Yes. But then what? What would they expect me to do?

  Seek out and destroy Kukran Epthel. That, at least, is what I would do. In the chaos of the attack I would take him down, somehow, and utterly destroy him and the amulet.

  116

  Dubaku had wanted to accompany me, but I had argued against it. Sapphire was helpless and needed someone to hide him and protect him. Striding boldly through the vault I couldn't help wondering if he were invisible and following.

  “Jocasta asked me to help you,” Dubaku had said.

  “So help me. Keep my friend safe while I do what I need to do.”

  He had shaken his head once. “No.”

  I came to the stairs and headed up. There were no guards at all. Perhaps there never were or perhaps the imminent attack had pulled everyone to the walls. It didn't matter. I was inside the stronghold so I would begin my search here, I decided. Turning right at the top of the stairs I moved briskly on, looking like I belonged, like I had business here, and like I didn't want to be interrupted. I was surprised by how many people glanced at me in passing and ignored me.

  “Where is Kukran Epthel?” I demanded of one fellow who also looked busy.

  “With the warlord,” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder and I nodded as though I knew exactly what he meant and moved on briskly about my business.

  Warlord. Yes, well, the barbarians had many clans and clan chieftains. In time of war there was a vote and a warlord was chosen. So, it made sense that Kukran Epthel would be with him, in the thick of things. They were all obedient to him, after all, enthralled unknowingly by an ancient amulet.

  “Where is the warlord?” I barked at the next man I passed.

  “Heading for the walls!” The fellow was in a rush and tossed the remark over his shoulder.

  So, out of the stronghold, I decided. Which way was that?

  Dubaku had argued further, and I had argued back. “He is helpless, I am not!”

  I could not ask anyone the way out. True, I smelled of beer but I wasn't drunk and didn't think I would get away with it no matter how drunk I had been. Who wouldn't know the way out? It would just attract the wrong kind of attention. Instead, and simply, I took a straight line till I hit an easily recognized outer wall and began walking around the stronghold.

  “He is not my responsibility. You are, at Jocasta's request.”

  “And why do you obey her above me? Your mercenary unit was under my command and I have not released you yet.”

  He had simply looked at me. It was true, but it was also true that all of his company were dead, and it was true that that was my fault. Still, he didn't answer and I knew I had him. I had nodded firmly, as though it were agreed and settled and then set off without waiting for him to verbally accept my authority. Good enough was good enough; no sense rubbing his nose in it. I had the illusion ring, the stone in my forehead, a set of lock-picks and a small but very sharp knife. I doubted it would be enough but the battle would begin soon and it would just have to do. I had to come out of this mess with something; a hero, not a pauper.

  I came to the gate, at last. It was open and busy.

  Get
ting out wasn't a problem. I just acted as I had been, a busy man with no time to waste on formalities. Everyone else was acting the same way, so I fit right in.

  117

  I was going to need a horse.

  It was dawn, the sky pale, shadows long, fires of various sizes burning high, and people were up and on the move everywhere I looked. I hadn't taken more than a few paces from the keep, nor yet asked where the warlord might be found, when the first concussion rang out.

  The attack had started.

  I was going to need a horse fast. There were none nearby so I started moving. Every man in sight was armed and heading for the walls. I didn't doubt there were enough of them to man the walls entire. The Eyrie was huge but also crowded. Horses were few and far between, and I had gone a hundred yards before I saw three together, saddled and standing outside a tent, reins pegged to the ground, waiting for three men who were at that moment coming out of the tent, armed and armored.

  Three of them, one of me, and I had just a small knife and no armor. No. I angled away and kept moving, heading roughly for the gate and passing through camps and around fenced-in pastures as necessary. If I'd needed a cow or a bull life would have been easier.

  More concussions sounded. I couldn't see much; dawn and dusk are the worst times of day to see clearly; add in the fires, shadows and kaleidoscopic movement of people and cattle and it was a wonder I could make sense of anything.

  This is chaos, I thought, and grinned, suddenly lighthearted. Sow the seeds!

  I snatched up the next torch I saw and started setting fire to tents as I moved. Not all of them, not waiting to see the result, just moving on and setting fire to things as I searched for a horse and someone to bludgeon into telling me where the warlord was. More concussions sounded as I moved and from seemingly all around a great roar went up as several thousand men shouted at once.