The Heir (Fall of the Swords Book 3)

by Scott Michael Decker

  She nodded. “How did you know, Father?”

  He glanced toward the moosehead mounted above the main entrance of the Lair. Inside the open mouth, he could just see the feathers of the arrow. “Remember how Raging River and I wanted to kill him on that hunt? I sent you to ask him to stay for coffee in the hope that you'd knife him. You didn't, because he charmed us both that first time we met him. Besides, the timing was right. Promise me you'll take Seeking Sword to mate if the Heir assassinates me, Daughter. With his tongue of honey and his swordsmanship and his archery and his carriage, he'll hold these morons beguiled. Already Seeking Sword's reputation precedes him, and his face is vast, eh?”

  * * *

  Purring Tiger searched her father's face, remembering the prophecy.

  “The man who pulls a bow better than you will inherit your domains, Young Lord,” the prophetess had said so many years ago.

  No one but Seeking Sword had ever pulled better than the bandit general. No one but Seeking Sword had ever made her tingle like that, just by smiling at her. That night, because he had been clumsy, she had known she was his first, as he was hers, and because of that her pleasure had mounted. Only the electrical shield that she had set nearby had contained her joy and kept the hunting party from sharing the vicarious bliss. Only the thought that she might ruin her reputation had kept her from crying her ecstasy aloud as she had eased herself onto his fullness and had taken all of him into her. Never again would bandits have thought her implacable and ruthless, not after she had sheathed his majestic sword in seeking communion with the Infinite.

  Purring Tiger brought herself back to the present, to her father's request. “Yes, Father, I promise.” She saw he was watching her.

  “Ah, he has a princely pestle besides. Good for a man to be well-endowed. Good for his mate as well, if she has the juices.”

  Purring Tiger blushed, thinking of him and nodding.

  “I can see you'll do as I ask.” Scowling Tiger put his arms around her. “I love you, Daughter, even if I don't say it much or show it much.”

  I'll have to ask Thinking Quick how much longer Father will live, Purring Tiger thought, hearing finality in his voice. Intuitively, she knew not long. She returned his embrace and enjoyed the warmth and love he was giving her this moment.

  “One more matter,” he said, pulling away. “When I'm dead, kill the cretin. Melding Mind, too. His loyalty is questionable anyway. Did you know Thinking Quick's brother is the Sorcerer Apprentice?”

  She shook her head. “No, I didn't know. Why kill them, Father? Why not use them against Spying Eagle?”

  “Wizards are formidable, talented, unpredictable. Ask yourself why Flying Arrow tolerates that dolt, Exploding Illusion.”

  “He's incompetent,” she replied immediately.

  Scowling Tiger smiled. “Kill them the moment I die.”

  “Yes, Father.” Can I kill my friend, my only friend? she wondered.

  “I said a week ago that the Heir would come against us bandits.”

  She had grown accustomed to her father's unpredictable thoughts. “He has certainly fulfilled his requirements—a thousandfold,” she replied. “Twelve thousand bandits dead behind him, and he hasn't half-finished.”

  “You speak of him almost with admiration, Daughter.”

  “You taught me that one can sometimes admire an enemy more than an ally. Perhaps we can learn, even from him.”

  “Let's hope we don't have to learn on the edge of his sword, eh?”

  “Infinite forbid it, yes.” The mention of his sword stirred her intuition, but like water through fingers, the idea eluded her. She felt she had missed something important.

  Standing, Scowling Tiger helped her to her feet and hugged her again. “See that the conference room is ready. I'll join you there shortly.” He walked off toward the immense rack of antler.

  From where she stood, she could just see the feathers of the arrow that had killed the moose. Involuntarily, she shuddered, remembering the old woman's prophecy.

  Taking a side door, she left the Lair and walked toward her rooms high in the Tiger Fortress. Sprawled in front of the door, the menagerie tiger yawned and stretched, getting to her feet to greet her. Scratching the animal, Purring Tiger entered and immediately checked the nursery. Burning Tiger slept soundly, the wet nurse quietly tidying the room.

  For a moment, she stood above the crib, looking down at her son.

  His son.

  Satisfied all was well, Purring Tiger retrieved a haunch of deer from the pantry. With her trace levitation, she carried it into the corridor and gave it to the animal. Only she ever fed the tiger. The tiger accepted food only from her, unless she hunted it down herself.

  She then walked to the conference room, where servants prepared coffee and snacks. The table was circular, ten feet in diameter, and topped with glass. Beneath the glass was a detailed map of the Windy Mountains, the Tiger Fortress at the center. Southeast of the fortress, the edge of table slicing it in half, was Emparia Castle.

  She stared at the map, entranced, her thoughts elsewhere.

  While she stared, the servants left, their preparations finished.

  Something brought her to and she spun to find him looking straight into her eyes as he always did and never at her body as every other man did and because of this she moistened enough to send a drop trickling down the inside of her thigh and when she realized they were alone she stepped into his arms.

  Into safety.

  “It was you that night,” he whispered, his breath warm on her neck.

  She pulled back, looked up into his deep, gray-blue eyes and saw her immense joy reflected. “Not now, but soon you can meet your son.”

  “I'd like that,” he replied with a smile. Neither his tone nor manner betrayed surprise. “The others will be here soon.” A hand on each of her shoulders, Seeking Sword eased her gently away.

  She craved to embrace him. “I'm not afraid of their knowing.”

  “I know, but a better time to tell will come.”

  Purring Tiger nodded as he stepped away, wanting to hold him.

  He circled the table, his attention on the map. “I think of you much of the time.”

  Knowing his desire was as great eased the ache in her loins. “You put eight arrows into a space smaller than my palm. Father launched seven, but not as accurately. No one has ever beaten him at the pull.”

  “It was the hand of the Infinite.”

  “It was the hand of Seeking Sword,” she retorted. They smiled at each other. “A prophetess said long ago that the man who pulled a bow better than Father would inherit his domains. He killed her to still her lies, then practiced until he was better than anyone else.”

  The young man chuckled. “Are you as good a shot as he?”

  “Almost, but I can't shoot as far or as long.”

  * * *

  Leaping Elk's ambassador to the Tiger Raiders, Lumbering Elephant, appeared in the doorway behind Purring Tiger. She moved away from the door and stood in front of a chair three away from the one Seeking Sword had chosen.

  “Lord Elephant,” Seeking Sword said, bowing deeply. Lumbering Elephant had known Seeking Sword all his life and had been one of his many teachers.

  “Lord Sword,” Lumbering Elephant said, nodding. “An unexpected pleasure to see you.”

  “The Lord General Tiger has honored me with an invitation to be here today—which I find a bit of a mystery.”

  “The Lord Elk had wondered where you'd gone off to, Lord Sword.”

  “A short excursion up north with the Lady Quick,” he said, shrugging. “The Lady Tiger and I were discussing the Lord Tiger's skill at archery.”

  The large levithon greeted her. She ignored him.

  “With practice, Lady, you might shoot as well as the Lord Tiger,” Seeking Sword said.

  “I might, Lord,” she replied tersely, her words clipped, her manner now cold.

  One moment warm, affirming, nurturing—and now she's an i
ceberg, Seeking Sword thought. I don't understand her.

  Others entered the room, few of whom Seeking Sword knew. No one seemed to find his presence strange. The newcomers exchanged greetings and bows amid subdued conversation. Then in rapid succession, Thinking Quick, Raging River and Scowling Tiger strode into the room.

  Circling the table, the bandit general sat beside his daughter's chair. Raging River stood behind his liege lord, sword loose. Only Scowling Tiger had sat. As a group, they bowed to him. The bandit general nodded and examined the table while the others took seats. Moccasins and chair legs scraped the floor. A minute later everyone had found seats and was looking toward Scowling Tiger. Only breathing broke the silence.

  “The Heir comes to take my head. Does anyone doubt it?”

  No one did.

  “At my right hand sits my friend, Seeking Sword.” The bandit general gestured. “During this meeting we'll confine ourselves to speech, since the Infinite has given him a reprieve from the curse of talent.”

  Laughter too loud echoed around the table. Seeking Sword raised his estimate of those who hadn't laughed.

  “The Lords Hissing Cougar and Spitting Wolverine have both felt the bite of the Heir's blade. Just this afternoon, Imperial Warriors razed the Lord Wolverine's camp. Seven thousand more bandits are dead.

  “Now, the Heir's coming after me. When he does his strategy will be different. He'll come unassisted, without Imperial Warriors to massacre behind him, without the assistance of the Colonel Probing Gaze, without the slightest bit of help from anyone. I tell you, Lords and Ladies, that scares me more than his having a hundred thousand warriors behind him. If he's alone, I don't know what he'll do.”

  Murmurs of assent rippled around the table.

  “I've gathered you here this evening to find out what you think he'll do, and what preparations we need to make. I welcome and encourage all opinions. Please speak your mind.”

  “Seal the fortress tighter than a chastity belt,” Raging River said immediately. “Do it now—before the bastard gets in.”

  “We'd have to open our doors sometime, Lord River,” Easing Comfort said.

  “How do we know he hasn't gotten in already?” Seeking Sword said.

  A dismayed silence settled on the assemblage.

  “How do we know you aren't the Heir?” The voice belonged to Crawling Turtle, President of the Bandit Council. “You're supposed to look like him, eh?”

  “Just before the meeting started, Lord Turtle,” Purring Tiger said, “I held Seeking Sword in my arms. If he were the Heir, one of us would be dead.”

  That'll fire their loins, Seeking Sword thought—and tongues.

  “Let us assume, then,” Scowling Tiger said, “that the Heir hasn't gotten past fortress security. I'd like to hear how he'll do that.”

  Flashing Blade leaned forward. “Disguises, Lord Tiger.” The pyrathon exuded the faint smell of burned hair.

  “How do we know he won't impersonate the Lord Sword?” Melding Mind asked. “Their resemblance is too true not to consider it. Of course, he'd have to know about the Lord Sword already. We've no way of knowing if he does, but it's not something we should chance, eh?”

  “We can insure Seeking Sword isn't here, Lord Mind,” Thinking Quick said.

  “Lord Blade,” Scowling Tiger said, “when this meeting is over, take the Lord Sword and ten seasoned warriors north to the farms. When it's safe, I'll send for you. All right, Seeking Sword?”

  Father and Daughter have both addressed me by my full name—an honor given only to close friends and relatives, Seeking Sword thought, glad it was all in the open now. “Lord Tiger, I hope we survive the fighting in the area,” Seeking Sword said, frowning at the map.

  “What?” Scowling Tiger said. Others also voiced their bewilderment.

  “The Heir comes alone, Lord Tiger, but Imperial Warriors won't remain idle. If I were the Heir, I'd order attacks on all Bandit Council installations, including Seat, and have the attacks coincide with the attempt on your life, Lord Tiger.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Ridiculous.”

  “He wouldn't dare.”

  “Seat's impregnable.”

  Seeking Sword stared back at those who disagreed, not needing to convince them. They were the same ones who earlier had laughed too loud.

  * * *

  Silent, Scowling Tiger sat back and appraised the young man.

  The tickle of a thought touched his mind.

  Framed by brown hair and skin, the brown eyes fixed him with a stare. Everything Seeking Sword says is as sensible and certain as the rising of the moon, Thinking Quick sent.

  I agree, Scowling Tiger replied. If I survive this, I'll make him second in command and mate him to my daughter and give him the power to speak with my voice. Isn't that what you want for him?

  Thinking Quick responded with a mental snort.

  Closing his mind to her, the bandit general guessed that Seeking Sword would eventually reign over more than the fortress.

  “Believe it!” Thinking Quick said. “I've seen it happen.”

  “Why didn't you say anything?” Melding Mind asked his daughter.

  “Better that each of you thinks for yourself,” she replied.

  Better that each of you learns of Seeking Sword's cunning, Scowling Tiger thought.

  Seeking Sword visibly struggled not to smile, his gaze on the table.

  “Can't you tell us how the Heir will get in?” Easing Comfort asked.

  “No, Lord Comfort,” Thinking Quick replied. “Like the Lord Sword, the Heir doesn't register in my prescient sight.”

  I'll wager Seeking Sword can tell us, Scowling Tiger thought.

  A few cast uncomfortable glances toward Seeking Sword. “Lord Blade,” he said, “let's go to where Lofty Lion's castle once stood.”

  Flashing Blade nodded, glancing to confirm with Scowling Tiger.

  “You don't want to fight, eh?” Crawling Turtle sneered.

  “The Lord Tiger needs you, Lord Turtle,” Seeking Sword replied amiably. “I'll ignore that remark and leave your head where it is.”

  “It's true then, you cow—” A shiny, brass-colored blade appeared an inch from his neck, interrupting the pejorative.

  “Hold!” Scowling Tiger ordered. “Lord Sword, put away your weapon. You'll have opportunity later, if you so choose, to take his head. Personally, I think you've acted impetuously. You've offended me by not asking first.”

  “I agree, Lord Tiger. I ask your forgiveness for my impatience.” Sheathing his weapon, Seeking Sword bowed to them all.

  “You'll apologize, Lord Turtle,” Scowling Tiger ordered.

  “I've stated nothing but fact, Lord Tiger.”

  “Your behavior, Lord Turtle, is most inappropriate for a man of your position. Obviously, you aren't worthy of it. The Bandit Council will want your resignation forthwith.”

  “How dare you suggest—”

  “The Lord Turtle offends me, Lord River,” Scowling Tiger interrupted. “Escort him from the fortress, and see that he never returns.”

  “Yes, Lord.” Grinning, Raging River stepped toward the man.

  “No need, Lord River. I know the way out.” Crawling Turtle spat on the table and left. A man with spittle was a man without fear.

  “Lord Sword, answer one question, and I'll let you and the Lord Blade be on your way. What you do beyond the fortress is your own affair.” Scowling Tiger glanced toward the door Crawling Turtle had taken. “How will the Heir get into the fortress?”

  “Disguised as a refugee, Lord Tiger. He'll have to bring himself to your attention somehow. He'll probably use some artifice, such as claiming to have survived both attacks. My guess is he'll arrive in fragile condition, requiring some sort of medical attention. That way, he'll need to be sequestered in the infirmary—leaving him less well-guarded than other refugees, eh?”

  Scowling Tiger kept the skepticism off his face. I don't believe for a moment that anyone lacking a single t
alent can predict another's actions to this extent, he thought. “Thank you for trying to be concise, Lord Sword. Farewell, my friend, my son.”

  * * *

  Seeking Sword rose and bowed. “Infinite be with you, Father.” As he rounded the table, he put his hand on Purring Tiger's shoulder.

  She rose and followed him into the corridor.

  Flashing Blade politely looked elsewhere while the pair embraced.

  “You'd better send the Lord Elephant after me,” Seeking Sword said, “and Slithering Snake. Yes, the sectathon would be much better. He's my friend and always loyal. Others may want my head.”

  “Yes, my love.”

  The words sent warmth surging through his body. She pressed herself against his stiffening. Seeking Sword would have found a place of privacy if Flashing Blade hadn't been waiting.

  “When I return, my love,” Seeking Sword said, pulling away from her.

  Putting her hands behind his neck, Purring Tiger pulled his face down to hers.

  An eternity later, Thinking Quick interrupted them. “You need to go, Seeking Sword,” she said. “Here, I want you to have this. Take it—it's a gift.” The multiple Wizard pressed a sheathed knife into his hand.

  The haft was a single chunk of emerald.

  Seeking Sword recognized it. Melding Mind had worn it for years, and had recently given it to his daughter. “Thank you, Thinking Quick.” Puzzled, he fixed it to his weapons belt and promptly forgot it was there. He looked into Purring Tiger's eyes.

  “You.”

  “You.”

  His loins aching and his heart telling him to stay, Seeking Sword turned and walked off. Long after turning the corner and entering the spiral stairwell at the mountain core, he felt her eyes upon him.

  Flashing Blade, descending beside him, frowned when he saw the first of Seeking Sword's tears. “What are those about, eh? She'll be here when you return.”