Angst (Book 4)

by Robert P. Hansen

  “He is different,” Ortis agreed. “I was standing near the barracks door when he left, and he didn’t even look at me when I called out to him. He just went over to the edge of the wall and jumped off.”

  “I don’t trust him, Ortis,” Hobart admitted, “and it isn’t because he’s changed. That’s a part of it, but there were two of him when Sardach flew off, and the one we have doesn’t seem right. The other one might have been our Angus, but this one….” He shook his head and made a fist. “There’s something wrong about him.”

  “Hobart,” Ortis said. “You haven’t even talked to him yet.”

  “I don’t need to,” Hobart protested. “Our Angus would never have treated Commander Garret that way. Even when he was angry, he was polite about it.”

  Ortis was silent for a few seconds, and then said, “He seemed preoccupied last night when I spoke to him in his room. He had that distant look he gets when he’s not really paying attention to what’s around him. There’s more to this than either of us know.”

  “Perhaps,” Hobart acknowledged.

  “You know he’s been kept in Hellsbreath since he arrived, don’t you?”

  “Commander Garret said something about that,” Hobart answered. “He said King Tyr had sent orders to keep Angus confined to the city and gave him the authority to arrest him if it was needed.” He paused and frowned. Like what Taro said he saw in that vision.

  “Angus mentioned it to me last night,” Ortis said. “But he said something else, as well. He believes Hellsbreath is in danger and the king’s orders were preventing him from saving it. He blames Commander Garret for not letting him leave. Perhaps that is why he was rude?”

  Is that it? Hobart wondered. Is Angus angry with Commander Garret for obeying his orders? That’s stupid. He should know by now that a soldier follows orders, whether they like them or not. Even bad orders have to be obeyed. But Angus isn’t a soldier, is he? “He thinks Hellsbreath is in danger?” he asked. “From what?”

  “He didn’t say,” Ortis answered, “but he wouldn’t have acted the way he did if he didn’t believe it was.”

  Taro saw Angus surrounded by fire, Hobart thought. Commander Garret is preparing to evacuate the city. He looked up at the dull gray of predawn and wondered what he would see above him if he could see magic. Was the dome breaking? Angus would know that, wouldn’t he? But so would the other wizards, and they weren’t acting like they could stop whatever it was that was about to happen. “Commander Garret thinks the volcanoes might erupt,” he muttered. “He didn’t want to go south or north because of them.”

  Ortis turned to him and frowned. “You were ordered into The Tween, weren’t you?”

  Hobart nodded. “We have been ordered ‘to retrieve what has been taken and return it to its rightful place,’” he quoted. “Angus knows what was taken, but he didn’t tell us what it was.”

  “Whatever it was,” Ortis said, “he believes he can get it back.”

  Hobart shook his head and frowned. “See?” he said. “That’s not like Angus at all, is it? He never had that kind of confidence when we knew him. He acted like he did, but we all knew better.”

  “Have you forgotten how he carried himself before Giorge was cursed?” Ortis said. “Wintering in Hellsbreath changed him. He wasn’t as naïve as he was when we first met him. That Angus would never have tormented Giorge the way he did.”

  “Yes,” Hobart agreed. “And then he got strange when we crossed that plateau. That’s what I’m talking about. He isn’t Angus, not the one we know.”

  Ortis was silent for a few paces, and then he shrugged. “I don’t think it was false bravado, Hobart,” Ortis said. “Angus believes he could have stopped what is about to happen, and I think a part of him blames himself for not being allowed to do it.”

  “Maybe,” Hobart hedged. Am I being too harsh? he wondered. Guilt can change a man. It changed me…. He pushed away the memories threatening to erupt in him and changed the subject. “Do you believe Taro?”

  Ortis looked at him and shrugged. “Is there reason not to?”

  Hobart frowned. Taro claimed to be a seer, but they were all dead, weren’t they? SOPS they were called now, and it wasn’t said with kindness. But the way Taro had described Angus had been uncanny. He had heard trained scouts give less detailed reports than what Taro had described. And he knew Hobart’s name before they had even met. Of course, he could have heard about him from someone else….

  They walked in silence for several paces, and then Ortis said, “You know, when I told Angus Commander Garret had left you an urgent message, he almost walked out of his room without me. I almost wish he had.”

  Hobart glanced over at his friend’s pale profile and said, “You are more than welcome to go your own way, Ortis.”

  Ortis barely shook his head. “It’s not that,” he said. “He flew me over to the barracks with him.” He paused and added, “It was not a pleasant experience.”

  Hobart laughed. “Is that all?”

  Ortis shrugged. “It was enough.”

  They walked in silence for a few seconds, and then Ortis asked, “Are you going to tell him about the visions?”

  Hobart frowned. Should he tell Angus about them? A soldier who believes he will die…. He shook his head. “I don’t know, Ortis. It will depend on what he has to tell us.”

  Dagremon rode up beside them and said, “You should tell him.”

  “Eavesdropping, Dagremon?” Hobart said. “That is beneath you, isn’t it?”

  “Speak softer, then, Hobart,” Dagremon countered.

  “I thought you were getting supplies,” Hobart accused.

  Dagremon nodded. “I have arranged to have them delivered,” she said. She looked ahead of them and asked, “Are you heading north?”

  “For a space,” Hobart said. “Our destination is in The Tween.” Why had he told her that? It wasn’t as if the mission was a secret one, but she didn’t need to know about it, did she?

  Dagremon turned toward him and her violet eyes captured the torchlight as they studied Hobart. There was something strange about those eyes, and it wasn’t just the color or that there was an elf behind them. They seemed to see things that he couldn’t see—things that shouldn’t be seen.

  “What of you, Dagremon?” Ortis asked. “Are you northbound as well?”

  Dagremon turned to him and nodded. “Yes,” she said, then turned back to Hobart. “Perhaps I might ride with you?” A smile seemed to dance with her eyes as she added, “For a space?”

  Hobart met those dancing eyes with his most stolid stare, the one that had sent fishmen to fight another foe. It had been strange enough to ride with the quiet little elf to Hellsbreath, but now she wanted to go with them on their way north? If she had planned to do so all along, why hadn’t she said anything about it? For that matter, when was the last time she had gone anywhere? She was up to something, but what could it be? “Are you bound for Wyrmwood, then?” he asked.

  Dagremon turned away and said nothing for several seconds. When she turned back, her eyes were flat, dark, and distant. “I go where you go,” she half-whispered, her voice heavy, almost like it was speaking through water. “It is the place I need to be.” Then she shuddered and blinked, and her violet eyes were piercing into his again.

  Hobart turned his attention to the lift area, where Angus was waiting for them. Angus was talking to another wizard, and when he looked up and saw them, he waved for Hobart to join them. Hobart ignored him and turned back to Dagremon. There was something disturbing about what she said, and it wasn’t just the way she said it. It was too enigmatic. “You talk like Taro,” he accused. “He didn’t make sense.”

  Dagremon’s violet eyes were dancing as she laughed and said, “His words will be clear to you in time. As will mine.”

  Riddles, Hobart grumbled to himself. “That is not enough, Dagremon,” he said. “We are leaving on an important mission for the king, and there is no room for you in our party.”

&
nbsp; Dagremon shrugged. “Our destinies have crossed paths, Hobart,” she said. “It is wise not to fight against such things.”

  Destinies? Hobart thought, shaking his head. More nonsense. We build our own destinies! Angus and the other wizard moved to the back of the line of early morning passengers preparing to board the lift. He waved again, more urgently this time, but Hobart ignored him. “Dagremon,” He said as he plodded forward. “You cannot go with us.”

  Dagremon smiled and rode forward to report to the scribe.

  Hobart and Ortis stopped in line behind her, but the old scribe looked past her and half-shouted, “Angus told me you were coming, Hobart. Go on ahead. The lift is waiting for you.”

  Hobart nodded and walked forward at a slow, steady pace. The false dawn caused by the mountain’s shadow was around them, but the first streamers of sunlight were stretching across the valley below them. Dawn, he thought. And already a strange day.

  6

  Magdel hunched forward and clutched the reins with her right hand. With her left, she desperately clung to Giorge’s limp arms as they dangled over her shoulders. Her son’s chest pressed heavily against her back as she fought to keep him from sliding off the saddle. It was difficult. She wasn’t an experienced rider and didn’t know how to steer the horse very well. Fortunately, she didn’t have to; it was running along with the herd without any guidance from her at all. That let her focus on keeping Giorge and herself in the saddle, and the long years of meticulous balance exercises she had undergone as a child made that seem deceptively easy. I should tell the patrol to stop, she thought as Giorge shifted suddenly to her right, almost toppling both of them from the horse. But I can’t do that to Giorgie! They would ask too many questions.

  Giorgie said he took The Tiger’s Eye, she thought, not really comprehending what it meant. He said something made him do it. Giorge began to slip to the left, and she automatically adjusted her posture to bring him back the other way. The curse isn’t over, is it? Symptata lied! That didn’t surprise her, but it did make it more difficult to deal with the situation. Why did Giorgie open that damned box?

  But she knew the answer. She had been consumed by the curse long before it had fastened its grip on Giorge. It had been a harrowing experience before she had succumbed to it, and it had started when she had found the first box. She had thought she was prepared for it, but she hadn’t been. She had fought so hard against opening it, but the curse had reached out and forced her fingers to pick the lock on that box. It had puzzled her at the time, but only because her fingers seemed to know how to pick it when she didn’t. But she had kept her head and studied the movements with fascination.

  It wasn’t Giorgie’s fault, she thought with grim determination. I have to help him. But how?

  She couldn’t tell the patrol about it; they wouldn’t understand the curse. All they would care about was that Giorge had made the volcanoes erupt. They would arrest him—or worse. If only Embril had come back with him! She understood magic. She would understand how the curse had made him do it. But Embril hadn’t come back. Giorge said that she had become a horse and was running after Darby. Magdel frowned. That couldn’t be true, could it? Embril a horse? But Lieutenant Jarhad had accepted it as if it were true, so perhaps it was. But Magdel didn’t believe it. Darby hadn’t taken The Tiger’s Eye; Giorge had. So why would Darby run? Why would Embril follow after him if he wasn’t running? No. Giorge had done something to them. She frowned and slumped forward to distribute Giorge’s weight a little more evenly over her back. What have you done, Giorgie? She wondered. Embril was kind to us!

  But it wasn’t Giorge. It was the curse. It had made him take The Tiger’s Eye, and it had made him do—

  Do what? There was no way for Magdel to know. She hadn’t been there, and Giorge wasn’t going to tell her. He couldn’t tell her. The curse would see to that. She frowned. But he had told her he had taken The Tiger’s Eye after he came to, hadn’t he? Maybe he would tell her what else he had done if she asked him about it? But he was unconscious again, and she couldn’t ask him. How long would he be out this time? What was causing it? Was it the curse? Or something else?

  She almost called out for them to stop so she could find out what was wrong with Giorge, but she didn’t. There wasn’t anything they could do for him, anyway. All they did the first time was grumble about losing time and wonder how long it would take to get going again. Oh, they had looked for a head wound but when they didn’t find any, it left them stymied. “Our healer is away,” Lieutenant Jarhad had admitted. “If this were a battle injury, I could tend to it. But it isn’t.” No, it is the curse causing it, and I have to find a way to end the blasted thing.

  Yes, she thought. I have to end the curse for Giorgie. How can I do that? Several minutes passed as she concentrated on staying in the saddle while the horses slowed to navigate around an overgrown section of the road. When the road cleared, they sped up again, and she had an idea. Giorgie put the skull together. I have to take it apart again. She would have stopped then, but decided it would be better to wait until they stopped to rest for the night. She needed privacy when she opened the box, and the patrol didn’t need to know what she was doing. They couldn’t know what she was doing. If they saw the gems in the skull…

  She continued to think about what she would do until they finally stopped next to a stream to give the horses a chance to drink and rest. Lieutenant Jarhad brought his horse up next to her and reached out to pull Giorge upright. He held him that way and asked, “How long has he been out?”

  Magdel stretched her back and said, “Since shortly after we started out.”

  He nodded and released Giorge, who flopped forward against her again. Then he turned aside and said, “Kaleb, carry Giorge with you the rest of the way.”

  Kaleb was a fierce-looking young man with a tangled mass of greasy auburn hair and walnut-sized hazel eyes that always seemed to be expecting something to jump out of the trees at him. Maybe something had, once; it would explain the thin scar near his ear and the crimped way he held his arm. He rode over next to her and reached across with both arms to drag Giorge over to his horse. He scooted back in the saddle and draped Giorge over it in front of him, as if he were a sack of flour. It didn’t look comfortable, but Giorge wasn’t aware of it, was he?

  Magdel scooted back in the saddle and waited for the patrol to continue on. They rode for a few more hours before setting up camp for a short night’s rest, and by then she had a plan. She asked for a tent of their own so that she could tend to Giorge, and then asked them to bring her his pack. It was mostly filled with what Giorge had taken with him when he and Embril had gone after Darby, but Symptata’s box had to be in it. Where else would Giorge have put it? Inside the box was The Viper’s Skull, and that was what she was after.

  She waited until she was sure Lieutenant Jarhad wasn’t going to come back to check on them, and then she put the pack on the cot near Giorge’s feet. She untied the flap and lifted it—and then let the flap slip from her fingertips. The Viper’s Eyes were staring out at her from the Skull, and they sparkled with an inner green gleam. They seemed to be mocking her, laughing at her, but that didn’t prevent her from taking the Skull out of the pack and setting it between Giorge’s feet. Why did Giorgie take the Skull out of the box? she wondered as she reached for one of those insidious diamonds. That’s why the curse isn’t dead. She tugged on the diamond, but it didn’t budge. She tried to pry it out of its settings with her poniard, as she had done with other gems, but it still didn’t budge. She tried to remove The Viper’s Breath and Fangs, but they were too securely held, just like they had been in Symptata’s sarcophagus. She frowned. What if it isn’t because Giorgie took it out of the box? What if it’s because he replaced the stones in the Skull? How did that verse go?

  She closed her eyes and mouthed the words:

  There is one chance—

  and only one—

  To lift this burden

  and be undone;
/>   When the Viper’s Breath,

  the Viper’s Fangs,

  and the Viper’s Eyes,

  are found again

  and once more merged

  with the Viper’s Skull,

  The curse will end;

  the quest fulfilled.

  The Viper’s Skull was whole again, wasn’t it? Why hadn’t the curse ended? She frowned. Had Giorge been undone? No, that wasn’t it; there was another verse. It had been one of the stanzas on Symptata’s sarcophagus:

  The curse is lifted; the curse is gone;

  Your life is yours to live again;

  But here forever you shall be,

  until in death, you join me.

  Something reached into the pit of her stomach and squeezed. What if Symptata didn’t lie? Giorge had said he had died, hadn’t he? Could it be possible that Symptata was the one who had taken The Tiger’s Eye? Were they somehow joined? The curse…

  Magdel shook her head. There was only one thing she could do to break the hold the Skull had on Giorge. She had to put it back in the box. Giorge wouldn’t have thrown the box away, so it should still be in his pack. She rummaged through it until she found the box resting on the bottom. She pulled it out and set it on the cot beside Giorge’s hip. She tried to open it, but the lid didn’t move. Giorge had locked it. She tried prying it open with one of her poniards and tried to snap the lock with the blade’s tip, but nothing happened. She bent down to study the inside of the lock and shook her head. It was the same kind of complex lock the box she had found had had. She couldn’t pick that one until the curse took over, and she was sure the curse wasn’t going to help her this time. Could she pick it on her own? Would the curse impede her efforts if she tried?