The Heir (Fall of the Swords Book 3)

by Scott Michael Decker

  “At what?” Spying Eagle asked, feeling that he should recognize the knife.

  The other man disappeared without answering, leaving him on the crest of the steep hill.

  Six months later, Flying Arrow summoned Spying Eagle to Emparia Castle under the seven-arrow cipher, and asked him to become the Sorcerer Apprentice. Before he took the position however, the Sorcerer Exploding Illusion probed him deeply, searching for implants. He told Spying Eagle that he had found residual traces of an implant. After a further, deeper probe and an investigation, Spying Eagle became the Sorcerer Apprentice.

  The first few weeks of his apprenticeship passed swiftly as he learned the duties of his new position. His former liege lords Guarding Bear and Aged Oak helped him become accustomed to life in Emparia Castle, as did his friend, the Medacor Apprentice Healing Hand.

  A few months after he had adjusted to his new duties, Spying Eagle descended into the dungeons of Emparia Castle on an errand. Memories from his imprisonment five years before, quiescent until now, woke his latent anger. Lurking Hawk had interrogated him in these dungeons, then had shipped him north. Spying Eagle accomplished his task, treating the jailers with minimal civility. Remembering him, they looked shamed to have had such an eminent man as he in their charge.

  Reaching the stairwell to ascend back into the world of human beings, Spying Eagle heard a sound from a side passage. He stopped and looked, seeing only the condensation that glistened at the end of a cul-de-sac, the smell of mildew strong.

  A moment later, he heard a distinct human sob. He probed. His psychic receptors detected nothing at all. Stepping forward, Spying Eagle heard snuffling noises. Cautiously, he approached the source of sound. He heard muffled sorrow in what sounded like a boy's voice. On the psychic flow, however, wasn't a trace of emotion. As the distance decreased, Spying Eagle triangulated. To the left was the dim outline of alcove, where sorrow emanated from near the floor. At the end of the cul-de-sac, a few feet from the alcove, Spying Eagle sat. A creak of leather betrayed his presence.

  “What do you want?” asked a young, male voice, full of sorrow and resentment.

  “I heard your crying,” Spying Eagle replied, his tone as gentle as clouds.

  “So? Go away.”

  He stayed, saying nothing, seeing nothing. So dim was the light in the cul-de-sac that the boy was a shadow of shape on a solid black background. Spying Eagle couldn't even see the color of the boy's hair.

  Snuffling on occasion, the boy seemed not to mind his presence.

  Radiating comfort, Spying Eagle watched what he could see.

  “Fornicating imbecile,” the boy said finally, though without conviction.

  “Where did you learn that kind of language?”

  “From my father. He has a worse mouth than the Lord Bear. He says he doesn't want me to learn anything from the General. Afraid I might get a case of treachery, like it's a disease or something.”

  “From Guarding Bear?” Spying Eagle asked.

  “Who else? Most loyal man in the Empire, and my father's afraid of his treachery. Bah!”

  The boy speaks with quite a mature disposition for being six, seven? the Sorcerer Apprentice guessed.

  “Who are you, anyway?” the boy asked.

  “I'm Spying Eagle,” he said, feeling that the name was … wrong. What he should have said, however, danced on the edges of his mind, as if he couldn't quite remember it. “What would the Lord General teach you?”

  The boy spluttered, as if the question didn't merit an answer. “What couldn't the General teach me? What warrior discipline hasn't he mastered, eh? Are you a foreigner or something? Don't you know the Lord Bear's the greatest General in all seven reigns of the Emperors Arrow? Where have you been the last fifty years?”

  Spying Eagle laughed softly. “I wasn't aware that the Lord Emperor had asked Lord Bear to teach you.”

  “No one asked him. He volunteered, with a little persuasion from me, of course. Why do you think he retired last week? So he could spend his remaining days in a brothel? Infinite curse my father's stupidity, though. He can't get past his fear of Guarding Bear to see I couldn't have a better teacher.”

  “Is that what you were crying about?”

  “Yes,” the boy said resentfully. “What would you do, Lord Eagle?”

  “I'd insist on his teaching me. Listen, Child.” He realizing he didn't know the boy's name, which danced on the edge of his mind, as if he couldn't quite remember it. Spying Eagle wondered, exasperated with the mental block. “Listen, it's important to stand firm. If you back off now, you'll be telling your father you're weak and submissive. If you insist, your father will learn to give in more quickly to avoid confrontation. When you insist, though, remember to act as calm as possible. Repeat your request in exactly the same voice and manner.”

  “That's a great idea!” the boy said with the first real joy Spying Eagle had heard. “Infinite bless you! I can't wait to try it!” The shadow of shape rising, the boy stood.

  The Sorcerer Apprentice also stood.

  “You know, that's the best advice anyone's given me yet. No one else ever tells me what I can do. 'Here,' they say, 'Let me do that for you, let me speak to your father.' Doesn't do much good. Something's wrong with his ears—doesn't hear very well. Anyway, I want to talk to you more often. You're the Sorcerer Apprentice, right?”

  Spying Eagle nodded. “Yes,” he then said, realizing the boy probably couldn't see him.

  “I like you. I hope someone does away with stench-mouth, so you can become Sorcerer.”

  Spying Eagle laughed, not having heard that appellation for Exploding Illusion before.

  The boy laughed as well. “Thank you for your help, Lord Eagle. With you beside me, I'll wipe out those bandits when I get older, Infinite willing.”

  “I hope you will, Little Lord.”

  Turning, the shape retreated toward the light. Spying Eagle followed, liking the boy. Seeing the suggestion of bronze in the boy's hair, the Wizard felt upset, as if the memories on the edges of his mind encroached upon his consciousness, as if he began to remember. Fear gripped him suddenly. What happened then felt familiar enough that he stopped the implanted compulsion long enough to scream, “Run, Boy! Run!”

  The boy ran, looking over his shoulder with wide blue-gray eyes.

  Spying Eagle collapsed to the stone, fighting his own mind, battling the subconscious compulsion to assassinate Flaming Arrow. Long after triggering, the implant drove Spying Eagle's mind and body to kill the Heir and anyone who got in his way. Several guards and jailers died before they had evaluated the threat, when the emergency was incipient. A cunning old guard, too ancient for even mildly dangerous duty, tossed an activated damper into the corridor where Spying Eagle writhed, the dead scattered around him. Then they subdued his body. The compulsion almost killed him. Without treatment, it would have continued to drive him until he died from exhaustion.

  For a week, Soothing Spirit, Healing Hand and Exploding Illusion all treated Spying Eagle, trying to weed the implant from the soil of his mind. The deep roots were difficult to extirpate. Although Spying Eagle himself fought most of the fight for his mind, Flaming Arrow showed him how.

  The next day, Spying Eagle regained consciousness. Beside the bed sat Flaming Arrow, next to him Rippling Water. Lunging at the boy, Spying Eagle strained against the five-point harness while his mind struggled against the psychic dampers.

  “You don't want to kill me,” Flaming Arrow kept saying, as though praying. Tears poured down his face.

  Blackness descended upon Spying Eagle.

  The next day, Rippling Water walked in alone. “Close your eyes.”

  Spying Eagle obeyed, puzzled.

  “You don't want to kill me,” Flaming Arrow said a moment later.

  Opening his eyes, Spying Eagle lunged at the sight of him. The Heir wasn't in any real danger because of the physical and psychic restraints.

  “You don't want to kill me,” Flaming Arrow repeated,
biting off a sob.

  I don't want to kill him, Spying Eagle told himself. Letting the physical compulsion wash through him, he forced himself to relax and listen. He admired the boy's faith in him. Soon, the compulsion grew too great. He lunged, unable to resist.

  Flaming Arrow backed from the room, repeating the words through sobs.

  Spying Eagle lost consciousness again.

  Rippling Water and Flaming Arrow kept at it, trying once each day. Each time, Spying Eagle resisted the compulsion a little longer and understood the implants a little better. Faith, Spying Eagle kept telling himself. With faith, I can pull through.

  In his darker moments, he thought he would never free his mind from the implant. When faith deserted him, Spying Eagle remembered the look on Flaming Arrow's face. Forging his sadness into determination, the boy never gave up on him. Often, Flaming Arrow sat through Spying Eagle's spells of delirium as if the Wizard would die in his absence.

  On the seventh day, Spying Eagle woke. People surrounded his bed. Looking among them, he marveled. What a gathering of power! he thought. Exploding Illusion, Soothing Spirit, Healing Hand, Guarding Bear, Bubbling Water, Aged Oak, Shading Oak, Probing Gaze, Scratching Wolf, and even Spying Eagle's parents, Hovering Dove and Searching Eagle, smiled to see him conscious. Spying Eagle looked at them all, puzzled.

  Healing Hand cleared his throat. “I saw you were recovering,” he said, “so I asked a few of your friends here. You've been unconscious a week.”

  About to correct him, Spying Eagle saw Rippling Water. The six-year old was blinking rapidly at him. Recalling the children's visits, Spying Eagle realized no one else had been present. “Thank you, Healing Hand,” he said, smiling. “Infinite bless you all for coming.”

  “Infinite bless you for recovering,” Guarding Bear said with a deep, genial chuckle.

  “I knew you'd pull through,” said a boy. Flaming Arrow peeked from behind Bubbling Water. The Matriarch put her arm around his shoulder.

  “Now that he's better,” Rippling Water said, “will he have to go back to the dungeons?”

  Everyone laughed, and Guarding Bear shook his head. “No, Daughter, he's done nothing wrong. Someone implanted him, remember?”

  Weak and tired, Spying Eagle followed the conversation drowsily. Only later, after they had all left, did he realize he hadn't felt compelled to attack Flaming Arrow. I'm all right! Spying Eagle thought. By the grace of the Infinite, I'm all right!

  Shortly after the assassination attempt, Flying Arrow formally declared Flaming Arrow his Heir, bestowing the Eastern Heir Sword upon him. The Sword's circuits protected Flaming Arrow from nearly all forms of psychic assault. Nevertheless, the assassins continued to try, three more coming against him in the next ten years.

  * * *

  To this day, Spying Eagle believed that if he and Flaming Arrow had met under different circumstances, one of them would have died—and perhaps both. Melding Mind's manipulation angered Spying Eagle. Melding Mind's need for revenge saddened him.

  “I remember well, my friend,” Healing Hand said. “You're probably the only Imperial assassin ever to have tried, failed and lived to tell about it.”

  Spying Eagle smiled, ashamed that his father had used him for so ignominious a purpose.

  “So, what happened this time?”

  “The Lord Emperor sent me to investigate a rumor. A bandit girl, a Prescient Wizard. He ordered me to return with her if I could, to kill her if I couldn't.”

  Healing Hand laughed aloud at the dilemma. “If she were truly prescient, you'd never find her. Why send you at all?”

  Smiling, Spying Eagle grunted, looking around. “Orders are orders. In truth I was curious.”

  Healing Hand nodded. “If you'd feel more comfortable, we can scramble our emissions.”

  Having needed to relay sensitive information in situations ill-suited to secrecy, the two Wizards had developed a system of communication employing every frequency accessible to them. The system operated in much the same way an electrical damper did. The person broadcasting emitted a continuous stream of noise on all frequencies except one. That frequency, which contained the content, changed so rapidly that following the change was nearly impossible. No one had intercepted more than a fragment of information communicated with this system.

  The Sorcerer Apprentice nodded, looking around to insure they were at least unobserved. Then he related events:

  * * *

  After chasing rumor and speculation for weeks without result, Spying Eagle camped one evening a mere mile south of the Tiger Fortress. While plaiting his mahogany hair, he considered his options, and decided that further search would be fruitless. Crawling beneath his blankets beside the dying fire, he composed his mind for sleep, setting apart a segment of mind to guard against intruders.

  She appeared suddenly between his knees, grinning.

  He struck with his talents. Deftly, she parried his attack and laughed at him. Stunned by her insolence, he stared at her, struggling to slip a shiv of talent past her defenses. The fire flared, lighting lit her features, and he gasped. “You're…”

  “Who'd you expect, the Lord Infinite? Unless I've died and been reborn, I'm still me,” the girl said, mocking him.

  Emotions tangled within him. “You know my orders.” Normally impenetrable, his shields began to melt under the heat of her probe. No one had ever penetrated his outermost layers of shielding without his permission.

  “Why do you resist me? Surely, the man whom no shield obstructs isn't afraid of penetration, eh?” she said, mocking him again. “I know you fear me. Yes, I know your orders.” She relented even though she would have won.

  Relieved, Spying Eagle sighed. She can destroy me at whim, he thought. “Thank you for at least coming to meet me, Little Lady. You didn't have to.”

  “Our meeting is important, although for reasons different from those your Lord Emperor would give.”

  He shook his head. “I don't believe my eyes. I don't know what to think about you.”

  “Why not?” she asked, grinning.

  “You're the girl Flying Arrow's ordered me to capture or kill.” Running his fingers through her mahogany hair, he shook his head, disbelieving still.

  She leaned against him, her head on his shoulder. “You've been in my thoughts for many years, not to harm you but to help you. Despite the madman's orders, you won't capture or kill me, or even try.”

  His subconscious prescience confirmed what she said.

  Unsheathing a knife, she held it haft upward. The solid chunk of emerald glistened in the firelight. “Father gave this to me after you failed to kill the Heir.”

  Assaulted by hatred, sorrow, fear and shame, Spying Eagle held the girl. Like her brother, she was brown of hair, of eye, of skin. “Bless the Infinite that we could meet like this and not on the battlefield where I'm an Imperial Warrior and you're a bandit and we'd each have to kill the other.”

  She nodded, her head tucked into his shoulder. They held each other, exchanging parts of self in a psychic communion they knew would end too soon.

  “Remember this knife,” she said eventually, bringing them both back to the present. “The man who bears it is your friend and mine.”

  “How could I forget it?” Spying Eagle asked angrily.

  “Can you forgive Father his actions? He has his own terrible purpose, his own fears and hatreds. The Infinite hasn't given him an easy life. He loves you, even if that's not clear.”

  The Wizard looked down, struggling with his hatred and revulsion. The man fathered me, he thought, placed me in a home where I'd receive the best care and instruction, and bestowed inestimable talents upon me. Melding Mind's antipathy toward Flying Arrow must have driven him to disillusion and despair.

  “I'll try to forgive him,” Spying Eagle said, knowing he would face fewer tasks more difficult. Wanting to discuss something else, he asked, “What exactly are your talents?”

  “Wizard-level strength in almost every known talent.
Not only can I see all of the past, I can also see millions of futures.”

  “What's that like? Fascinating?”

  “Perceptual overload and perpetual torture.”

  His subconscious prescience confirmed her statement with a force that left him sweating.

  “You have the same talents. The first implant suppressed them when you were an infant. If you wish, I can make them available …? Good. I'm glad you don't want them. They've brought me nothing but grief. I wish I could rid myself of them.” Standing, she took off her pack, pulled out a blanket and spread it over him. Stripping to her loincloth, she crawled in beside him.

  That night, they slept with minds joined, and in the morning, said farewell.

  * * *

  “What an honor to have a sister so talented,” Healing Hand said, nodding gravely.

  Spying Eagle grunted, cold battlement stone beneath him, ashamed that his sister and father were bandits.

  “What did you tell the Lord Emperor?”

  “That I found her, that she eluded capture and that she was too powerful to kill. I also pointed out that she had known my orders, and prepared accordingly.” Seeking to talk of something else, anything else, Spying Eagle asked, “How's the Infinite treating you, my friend? Any idea when you'll become Imperial Medacor?”

  “None,” Healing Hand said, laughing. “The Lord Spirit will retire when the Infinite takes him. I've long since learned all I can from him, Infinite bless him. Just last week, he suggested that I might better use my talents elsewhere. Perhaps he's right. We both spend a lot of time doing little.” The Medacor Apprentice shrugged, palms open at his shoulders.

  “How old is he now? A hundred and five?” Spying Eagle asked.

  “One hundred seven, and still in perfect health.”

  “Ah, what a privilege to have such length of life.”

  Smiling, Healing Hand said, “Indeed, if that's your wish. How about some coffee, Spying Eagle? You can tell me about the rest of your trip.”

  “Thank you, Healing Hand, no. I need some time to myself, eh?”

  “I sympathize, my friend. The peace of the Infinite be with you.”