The Bandit (Fall of the Swords Book 2)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Titles by the Author
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
About the Author
The Bandit
Fall of the Swords Book II
Scott Michael Decker
Copyright (C) 2014 Scott Michael Decker
Layout Copyright (C) 2016 by Creativia
Published 2016 by Creativia
eBook design by Creativia (www.creativia.org)
Cover art by http://www.thecovercollection.com/
U.S. Copyright # TX 8-0003-111
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.
Titles by the Author
If you like this novel, please post a review on the website where you purchased it, and consider other novels from among these titles by Scott Michael Decker:
Science Fiction:
Bawdy Double
Cube Rube
Doorport
Drink the Water
Edifice Abandoned
Glad You're Born
Half-Breed
Inoculated
Legends of Lemuria
Organo-Topia
The Gael Gates
War Child
Fantasy:
Fall of the Swords (Series)
Gemstone Wyverns
Sword Scroll Stone
Look for these titles at your favorite e-book retailer.
To Bobby Foster,
Who gave me the idea over a cup of coffee in the town of Ft. Bragg on the north coast of California, and who to this day has no idea what an epic it became. Thank you, Bobby – SMD
Prologue
It was a sword. It did not look important. Three feet long and slightly curved, the blade looked tarnished. The metal's dark color suggested it was simply brass. The edge was sharp and without a nick. The haft was pewter-colored, contoured for the human hand, and unremarkable—except for the single ruby set in the pommel.
Despite its modest appearance, the sword was skillfully constructed. The blade itself had been made from microscopic sheets of a chromium-antimony alloy layered one atop the other. The painstaking process made the blade very flexible and the edge very sharp. Even the best swordsmiths found the alloy difficult to work, however, making reproduction improbable.
In addition to its precise construction, the sword was ancient. Forged more than nine thousand years before, the sword had withstood all manner of use and misuse. The number of warriors who'd wielded the sword was a figure lost in the past. The number of warriors who'd died on its edge was many times that. The number of warriors mortally wounded while wielding this sword, however, was fewer than a hundred.
Called the Heir Sword, it assured the succession by preparing an Heir's mind for the Imperial Sword. No different in appearance, other than its slightly larger ruby, the Imperial Sword extended the range of an Emperor's psychic powers to the farthest corners of the Empire. Thus, the Imperial Sword was the figurative and literal source of an Emperor's authority. The Imperial Sword electrocuted anyone inadequately prepared by the Heir Sword, killing the unfortunate (or treacherous) soul. Thus, the Heir Sword was the only way to obtain that authority.
Each of the four Empires had its own pair of Swords, each pair adorned with a different gem. The four Imperial Swords all served the same function: To grant the current Emperor total dominion over his or her Empire. The four Heir Swords all shared their own function: To assure a smooth succession.
Although they shared the same function, the most valuable of the four Heir Swords was the one adorned with a ruby, the Heir Sword for the Northern Empire. Because of this Heir Sword, the Eastern Empire had slaughtered all the people of the Northern Empire. Because of this Heir Sword, a civil war had riven the Eastern Empire. Because of this Heir Sword, bandits besieged the Eastern Empire from across its northern border. Because of this Heir Sword, the four Empires' nine-thousand-year-old political systems were faltering, even though, ironically, the eight Swords had been forged to preserve them.
The Northern Heir Sword did not look important, but because of a single fact, it was the most important object in the world:
The Sword was missing.
Chapter 1
The Eastern Imperial Sword—the object insignificant, its authority anything but. The blade is three feet long, composed of thousands of microscopic layers of a chromium-antimony alloy whose color suggests it is simply brass. The haft is an aluminum-silicon compound the color of pewter. Set in the pommel is a large diamond, perching uncomfortably on a blade and haft that devalue it. Embedded in the haft beneath the diamond are electrical circuits for storing and amplifying psychic power, circuits that protect both wielder and Sword. In addition, the circuits generate a psychic link between the Imperial Sword and the Heir Sword. Emperors rarely employ the link; in fact, whole reigns might pass without Emperors ever using it. Occasionally an Emperor does need to reclaim the Heir Sword from a usurper, or to disinherit an Heir. The Imperial Sword's primary function is to extend the range of an Emperor's talents to the farthest corners of Empire, and to limit those talents to that same boundary. Thus the Sword is the literal and figurative source of the Emperor's authority, and the only curb on the unbridled expansion of that authority.—The Best and Worst of Talismans: The Imperial Swords, by the Sorcerer Flowing Mind.
* * *
The glow emanating from the diamond died as Flying Arrow lowered the Imperial Sword. His left deltoid muscles throbbed from the psychic exertion. A drop of sweat rolled into his eye and stung. A cold, rebellious wind swirled around the Emperor as if to cast him off his pinnacle. Sheathing the Sword, he sleeved the moisture off his forehead and lifted the hatch set flush in the top of the castle spire. Descending a few steps, he pulled the hatch closed above him.
I hope Lofty Lion has the decency to meet me at the appointed time and place! he thought. He wanted to avoid having to summon the former Emperor again, relieved to have contacted Lofty Lion on the first try. He harbored every psi in the Sword's reservoir.
Not that that will guarantee I'll ever have an Heir! he thought.
Two days ago, Lurking Hawk had brought to Flying Arrow's attention a problem that he hadn't foreseen.
* * *
“What'll you do with two heirs, Lord Emperor?” the Sorcerer asked.
Flying Arrow scowled at Lurking Hawk. “What are you blathering about?” He'd gone to great lengths to impregnate her and then conceal the manner of it—so great that her being pregnant with twins hadn't struck him as particularly alarming.
The Sorcerer smiled. “Lord, need I recoun
t Snarling Jaguar's subterfuge in usurping the Heir Sword from his brother?”
“Of course not, Lord Hawk, everyone knows the story. What's that have to do with me, eh?” Lurking Hawk's twisting history, Flying Arrow knew, expecting such distortions from the Traitor.
“The Emperor Scratching Jaguar fathered two boys only a few years apart, eh?” Lurking Hawk said. “Their proximity in age allowed Snarling Jaguar to disinherit his older brother.” The Sorcerer smiled at the Emperor, caressing the bracelet on his right wrist. “Lord, I don't intend to offend, but I must ask how you'll insure your own sons don't have a similar dispute.”
Flying Arrow hadn't given it a moment's thought. At the negotiations eight months ago, the Matriarch Bubbling Water had predicted, “one would be too few.” Flying Arrow had just assumed that one son would die before any strife developed between them. Then he'd dismissed the matter from his mind. He shrugged at the Sorcerer. “I'll only have one son and heir anyway.”
“So the Matriarch implied, Lord, but all the prescients I've spoken with tell me that any single vision has many interpretations. My interpretation, Lord Emperor, is that, yes, one will die. What no one can determine is when and in what manner that'll happen. In my humble opinion, Lord, you can shape the future by preventing any strife before it ever starts.”
Flying Arrow nodded. “That would be prudent, Lord Hawk.”
“I thought you might agree, Lord. What'll you do, eh?”
“I'm not sure.” An idea formed in his mind. Before thinking the idea through, he wanted the Sorcerer out of the room. Lurking Hawk could filch thoughts from others' minds with pickpocket dexterity. “Let me think on it awhile, eh? I'll tell you when I formulate a plan. I'm sure I'll need your advice in the matter.” Then he looked at Lurking Hawk suspiciously. “Have you seen your former Emperor lately, Lord Hawk?”
The Northerner put his palm on his chest, a picture of innocence. “I, Lord Emperor? Not in fourteen years, thank the Infinite. Why do you ask?”
“My spies can't keep him under surveillance. I thought you might know the reason. He moves around much too well with the help of that staff. Thankfully, everyone believes he died during the interrogation of his people.”
“He was always a furtive man, Lord Emperor.”
“Yes, blast him,” Flying Arrow muttered. “Where'd he hide the Sword?” The Northern Heir Sword had been missing for fifteen years, since the war. I have to find it! Flying Arrow thought. Now that the Imperial Consort had conceived twins, his frustration was a festering sore. If I had the Sword, I could give one to each of my sons! Then an Emperor Arrow would rule both the East and North! I know Lofty Lion knows where it is. Even the torture and execution of his every citizen wouldn't force the information from him. Infinite blast this whole rotten situation. “Perhaps you know, Lord Hawk,” Flying Arrow said.
“We both know I detest him for killing my father, Lord Emperor. He wouldn't trust me with a lock of his mane.”
“Skulking Hawk shouldn't have trafficked in talismans like that. Stupid to do something so blatantly illegal. He deserved to—” Flying Arrow saw that Lurking Hawk's mouth moved in time to his own. “You were … mouthing the words … as I said them!”
“I, Lord Emperor?”
“I saw you!” He tapped the Sword, lightning flashed, and the Traitor convulsed. “How dare you mock me!” He reached for the Sword again to rid himself of the Traitor forever. With an effort, he stopped himself, his left arm throbbing with gut-wrenching pain. Blast it, I still need him.
The Sorcerer dragged himself off the floor to a sitting position, wobbling drunkenly. “Forgive me, Lord,” Lurking Hawk said, his words slurred.
“Show me where the Northern Heir Sword is, Traitor!” he screamed.
“I don't know, Lord Emperor—I swear I don't know.”
Flying Arrow glowered at Lurking Hawk, wishing he could blast him all the way to the empty northern lands. Sighing, he massaged his left shoulder. “I'll kick your corpse another day, Traitor. Infinite curse the day I was born! How can I rule with such buffoons around me, eh? A Traitor Sorcerer. A prescient Matriarch who predicts in front of everyone that my consort's pregnant before I can use the information to advantage. A Prefect General who can't keep his grimy paws off a visiting barbarian Emperor in my own castle. Another Prefect General who squats across the border and throws his shit at me. A dunce consort who cuckolds me and gets pregnant! How the Infinite can I rule this blasted Empire, I ask you?!” Breathing heavily, Flying Arrow glared at Lurking Hawk.
“You've raised governing to a fine art, Lord Emperor.”
Tempted to shock him again, Flying Arrow scowled. Perhaps the Traitor's right—how else could I rule?
Sighing, Flying Arrow scrubbed his face with his palms, collecting himself. “Speaking of grimy paws, Groping Bear repatriates himself in two days,” he said, raising his head. “The General's been in exile eight months now. Enough time for him to think I've forgiven him his odious behavior, eh Lord Hawk?”
“You haven't, Lord Emperor? I'd never have known from your actions. I congratulate you on the depth of your dissimulation.”
“Thank you.” Flying Arrow wondered at the Sorcerer's odd emphasis. Lurking Hawk didn't usually fawn praise on him like some sequacious sycophant. He probably wants to insinuate himself back into my favor, Flying Arrow thought. “Dissembling through the repatriation proceedings with the Matriarch Water wasn't easy, but I succeeded in fooling her completely.” Flying Arrow chuckled. “When you implanted the Lord Bear after his 'inebriation,' you did install a disabler, eh?”
“I did, Lord Emperor. I haven't forgotten the rudiments of manipulation. The first lesson every Wizard learns is to plant a disabler in the subject's mind. Once implanted, always susceptible, eh? If that meddling Wizard Spraying Egret didn't remove the disabler, I'll manipulate the Usurper any time you want.”
“Yes, Lord Sorcerer, if.” Flying Arrow looked contemptuously at Lurking Hawk. Disgraceful that he couldn't penetrate the shields of the other Wizard! the Emperor thought, knowing the Traitor near the end of his usefulness. “Before you do anything stupid, I remind you I want the Usurper alive, eh? A known enemy is better than the unknown enemy who'll replace him.”
“So you've said on other occasions, Lord Emperor.”
“I repeat myself because of your thick skull, Lord Hawk. I haven't decided his penalty just yet. I ought to order him to perform some impossible task—like laying siege to the Tiger Fortress. Punishing the Lord Bear would be easier if he hadn't garnered such face while 'vacationing' in the Southern Empire, eh?”
“Indeed, Lord. What wizardry do you suppose the Usurper used to defeat those identical twin warriors while blindfolded?”
“Infinite knows, Lord Hawk. Then the insufferable peasant had to save the barbarian Jaguar from that assassin an hour later. Listen, the day after the repatriation ceremony and the Imperial Ball, the usurper will probably present some private missive from the barbarian. That's the time to check his mind for the disabler. I formally invite you to the ceremony and festivities, at which the Sorcerer's presence is obligatory. If Imperial business were to 'detain' you, though, your absence wouldn't be inexcusable, eh?”
“No, Lord, I'll surely find something to 'detain' me.”
“I thought as much.”
“When I check for the disabler, should I do more than just check?”
The idea forming in Flying Arrow's mind intruded upon his thoughts. Quickly, he suppressed it, hoping the Sorcerer hadn't detected it. “No, Lord Hawk, not yet. A more opportune time will come.”
“Yes, Lord Emperor.” Lurking Hawk sounded disappointed.
* * *
Descending the long stairwell inside the castle spire two days later, Flying Arrow smiled, preening his feathers that he was smarter than the barbarian Scratching Jaguar. He, the Lord Emperor Flying Arrow, knew how to thwart a struggle for the throne between identical twin sons!
The less the Traitor knew the better! Flying Ar
row had set his idea in motion without consulting Lurking Hawk.
Hurrying down the stairs toward his private suite, the Emperor consulted his inner clock. Guarding Bear was due at the eastern audience hall for his official repatriation in another hour.
Flying Arrow lifted his arm to sniff his odor. Moisture darkened the armpits of his robes, outlined by rings of dried sweat. Psychic exertion always made him perspire as if a downpour had drenched him. He also felt famished. Entering his suite, he ordered a bath and a light meal. In the excretory-bath, Flying Arrow let the servants to undress him. As the robes came off his left shoulder, he saw the purple-black subcutaneous contusion on the deltoid muscles.
The arm and shoulder hurt like the Infinite. Lofty Lion, during their three-day duel fourteen years ago, had sliced open his upper left arm. Flying Arrow often felt the ghost of the original pain. Soothing Spirit hypothesized that the pain was like the itching an amputee might feel in his or her missing limb. After every psychic exertion, the Emperor's old wound hurt worse than the time before.
The bruising, though, was new. Flying Arrow had first noticed it months ago, but had no idea when it'd started. He hadn't mentioned the bruising to the Imperial Medacor. The bruises had healed each time as normal bruises would. I should speak with Soothing Spirit about it.
Mindful of the bruise, the ancient personal servant gently washed the tender left arm. He lifted the bucket of warm water to rinse the suds off Flying Arrow. “The Lady Consort has requested to dine with the Lord Emperor. Would that be his preference?”
“I feel magnanimous,” Flying Arrow said, nodding and closing his eyes. The water doused him, the warmth refreshing. Rising from the small stool, he stepped into the large sunken tub. Thanking the Infinite for hot baths, he immersed himself completely. He came up and spewed water, then moved to the submerged bench to recline and soak while he had time.
The servant left to make arrangements.
Thinking of his consort warmed him as well. Flying Arrow smiled, remembering their coupling the night before. Since she was enormously pregnant with his identical twin sons, their positions approached the acrobatic. We should do that little contortion more often.