The Rise of the Demon Prince

by Robert Kroese

  I frowned as if perplexed by the conundrum. In truth, I had never believed the mundane explanation for the beacon atop Magas Komaron, even before I’d heard Bolond sing of it in Nincs Varazslat.

  “Using his arcane knowledge, Varastis found the way to Magas Komaron,” Eben went on. “There, in that abandoned fortress, he established his sanctuary for sorcerers. The very night he and his disciples arrived, he commanded that a light be placed in the highest window of the fortress, and it has burned ever since, as a warning to the acolytes and a beacon for other sorcerers. It can be seen from miles away, but for years the acolytes have tried to find a way through the mountains to the tower and have failed.”

  “So that is why Voros Korom turned away from Nagyvaros. You sent him to Magas Komaron.”

  “I convinced Voros Korom that only one man presents a threat to his dominion over Nagyvaros.”

  “Varastis. Is it true?”

  “It may be. I have never been able to learn what Varastis found under the city, and he has had twenty years since then to develop his powers. If anyone can stop Voros Korom, it is he.”

  “If you believed that, we would not be having this conversation.”

  Eben shrugged. “With enough time to prepare an offensive, Varastis might have found a way to wrest Nagyvaros from Voros Korom. But by then it would have been too late. The city would be destroyed.”

  “And if Voros Korom attacks Varastis at Magas Komaron?”

  “Varastis will die, along with the rest of his students. Not even Varastis has a chance in a surprise attack from those wraiths.”

  “You sent Voros Korom to kill the only man who has a chance to stop him?”

  “I had no choice. The diversion bought us six weeks. Magas Komaron is more than a week’s journey from Nagyvaros. Voros Korom will likely wait until the full moon, when the wraiths are at their strongest, to attack Magas Komaron. If a week has passed in your world, then the attack will come in twelve days. Even if Varastis puts up minimal resistance, Voros Korom will need some time to recover from the battle, so I suspect that he will again wait until the full moon to attack Nagyvaros. That’s six weeks, one of which you’ve spent in bed.”

  “I suppose it’s only coincidental that Varastis is a rival of yours.” It was only a guess, but an educated one, given what I knew of Eben.

  Eben allowed a smile to play at the corner of his lips. “It is true that I will not weep at Varastis’s demise. The fact remains, however, that this diversion was our only chance to save Nagyvaros. If we do not waste any more time, I may be able to train you to use the power of the brand to defend the city before Voros Korom attacks.”

  “Your personal grudges aside, would it not be better to go to Magas Komaron? With a fast horse, I could get there before the full moon. If I warn Varastis, perhaps we can stand against Voros Korom together.”

  Eben shook his head. “There is no time. A few hours to prepare will avail Varastis nothing against Voros Korom. In any case, I do not know the way.” He seemed loath to admit this.

  “If you do not know the way to Magas Komaron, how did you send Voros Korom there?”

  “Voros Korom’s strength is such that he can scale sheer rock faces that would be impassable for any man, and the wraiths cannot be stopped by any physical barrier. Voros Korom need only head directly for the beacon.”

  “Why does Voros Korom wish to destroy Nagyvaros?” I asked. “If I knew—”

  “Blast!” Eben snapped. “There it is.”

  “What?”

  “Ah, you cannot hear it. The bell Szarvas Gyerek uses to summon me. I must not delay, or he will begin to suspect.”

  “You’ve taught me nothing to help me defeat Voros Korom.”

  “There is time. Szarvas Gyerek will tire of me quickly and I will return here. It will only be a few minutes in your world. Can you find your way to this library?”

  “I doubt it.”

  Eben sighed. “To the chamber where I met you?”

  “I think so.”

  “All right. I will place a small bell, like the one Szarvas Gyerek uses to summon me, in the corner of the room, to the left of the torch as you enter. Return to your world, wait a short time, and then come back to that chamber. Ring the bell and count to two hundred. You will not hear the bell, but I will. If I do not appear by the time you reach two hundred, return to your world and try again shortly.”

  “Must I come by way of the guard tower each time? I seem to be able to return to Orszag from anyplace in the shadow world, but whenever I—”

  “I will explain later,” Eben said, getting to his feet. “I must attend to Szarvas Gyerek. Return when you can.” With that, he was gone.

  Not wishing to tarry in that sad place, I forced my awareness back to the room at the Lazy Crow. I was tired from my trip to the shadow world and my meeting with Eben, but I knew Rodric and Vili would be anxious to hear how it had gone. Besides, I had something to discuss with them before my next meeting with Eben.

  I went downstairs, where Rodric and Vili waited for me in the corner booth. Rodric had not even finished the mug of watered-down ale that he’d been drinking when I went to the room.

  “Have you forgotten something?” Rodric asked, as I approached.

  I shook my head. “The meeting is over.”

  “You went upstairs not two minutes ago!”

  “Time passes differently in the shadow world,” I said. “Can we be ready for a week’s journey by morning?”

  “I can secure provisions and make sure the horses are ready,” Vili said. “But are you well enough to travel?”

  “I will have to be. I trust Ember to carry me gently.”

  “Where are we going?” Rodric asked.

  “I do not feign to make such decisions on my own,” I said. “We are a party of equals.”

  “That may be,” Rodric said, “but Vili and I must depend upon you for knowledge of Voros Korom and other arcane matters. We will yield to your judgment.”

  Vili nodded. “We go where you decide we must go.”

  “Very well, friends,” I said. “Although you may well come to regret that sentiment. Tomorrow morning, we set out for a place called Magas Komaron.”

  Chapter Three

  Before I went to bed, I went again to the shadow world to meet with Eben, but he did not respond to the bell. It was just as well: As much as I wanted to stop Voros Korom, I did not want Eben to get the impression I was at his beck and call, and I could use the time to think and plan before speaking with him again.

  We left the inn an hour after dawn. The air was cold, but the sun shone brightly in a clear azure sky. There was no wind and no snow on the ground. We departed none too soon: Vili reported that the gendarmes had begun sweeping the Hidden Quarter, asking about a man with strange black markings on his face. Having already served six years in Nincs Varazslat for the supposed crime of sorcery, I was not anxious to meet them. Vili had not reported seeing any acolytes, which was fortunate: agents of the Governor might be reasoned with, but the acolytes cared only about maintaining their monopoly on arcane knowledge. I had known little of the Purge before meeting Eben, but what he told me rang true. I had no doubt the acolytes would be happy to see me killed trying to escape rather than bother with another trial. My legal status remained uncertain: I’d been released by the order of the Arcanist’s office, but the Arcanist himself—the sorcerer Radovan—had been killed, and I suspected it was only a matter of time before those in the government uncovered the truth about him.

  Vili had acquired two horses, one for him and one for Rodric. They awaited us at a stable just inside the eastern gate. The gendarmes were watching the gates, as well, but without any great conscientiousness: I huddled under a load of wool blankets in a cart that was part of a caravan destined for the military outpost called Erod Patak. Perhaps the order to watch for a man with markings on his face leaving the city had not reached the men at the gate; in general, sentries are more interested in those coming into the city than t
hose leaving. In any case, I was not disturbed. Rodric and Vili followed the caravan about a mile out of town, leading Ember behind their own horses. I rolled out of the cart, received with aplomb a series of deprecations from the driver of the following cart, and then rejoined my comrades.

  At this point I had told Rodric and Vili little more than that we were headed for Magas Komaron. This meant nothing to Vili; Rodric had raised an eyebrow, but seeing that I needed rest, did not press the matter. It was a testament to his loyalty that he thought nothing of following me to a destination that was thought to be unreachable, if not entirely fictitious. Late in the morning we came to a place where the trail widened enough to allow two horses to pass side-by-side, and he maneuvered his mount alongside of mine. Vili lagged behind; the sound of our horse’s shoes crunching on the frost-covered ground covered our voices.

  “Are we truly destined for Magas Komaron?” Rodric asked.

  “That is the plan,” I replied.

  “It is not, then, merely a rock on which perches a mischievous hermit, or some mountain-dwelling variety of will-o’-the-wisp?”

  “If Eben is to be believed—and I believe he was telling the truth on this matter, at least—it is an ancient fortress constructed by the same Builders who established the city that once stood on the site of Nagyvaros. It was long abandoned and now serves as a sanctuary for a sorcerer named Varastis and his followers.”

  “Eben instructed you to go there?”

  “No. In fact, he believes the journey to be impossible.”

  Rodric frowned, not knowing what to make of this. I was obliged to tell him the rest of my conversation with Eben.

  “Well,” said Rodric, “I certainly see the wisdom of appealing to this Varastis, particularly if he is an enemy of Eben. But how do you expect to reach Magas Komaron when even Eben does not know the way?”

  “This will sound foolish to you,” I began.

  “No doubt,” Rodric agreed.

  “…but I believe the answer is in a song.”

  “A… song?”

  “When I was in Nincs Varazslat, there was another prisoner there, a man named Bolond. I thought him mad, but he entertained me with hundreds of songs that were apparently of his own invention. They seemed mostly nonsense at the time, like the sorts of songs children sing while jumping rope. I heard many of them so many times I could even now sing them by heart. I did not think they held any deeper significance until the day I went to the shadow world to rescue Beata. Beata was being held in a dungeon below a keep, which is surrounded by a deep chasm, and the way across is guarded by a lone watchman, who has been sentenced to maintain that post, unmoving, for ten thousand years. The keep and the watchman are described quite precisely in one of Bolond’s songs.”

  “Possibly a coincidence.”

  “Perhaps, except for the fact that the watchman responded to Bolond’s name. It was how I got into the castle.”

  “Then this Bolond is some sort of master sorcerer? Where is he now?”

  “I do not know. I never saw him, but only heard his voice. One day his singing stopped, and I never heard him again.”

  “But you believe one of his songs is the key to reaching Magas Komaron.”

  “Yes.”

  “How does it go?”

  I cleared my throat. I am not much of a singer, but I did my best:

  No one knows what Varastis found

  buried so deep under the ground

  He left that night without a sound

  for Magas Komaron

  Setting out early on Nyarkozep

  he led his disciples ‘cross the wind-blasted steppe

  to the path of Polgar his company kept

  toward Magas Komaron

  “Is that it?” Rodric asked.

  “There’s a bit more, but that’s the part we’re concerned with right now.”

  “Polgar is the star at the end of Szamar’s Tail,” Rodric said. “It passes somewhat farther south this time of year.” It was only a few weeks past midwinter; Nyarkozep was on the day of the summer solstice.

  “But on Nyarkozep…”

  “Polgar would be directly overhead, yes. It would appear shortly after sundown in that direction, just to the right of those poplars. If you had told me earlier, I might have consulted with an astrologer and gotten us an exact heading.”

  “There are only so many paths through the hills. The way I figure it, we stay on this road until we reach Tabor Nev and then turn south. Maybe someone in Csakvar or one of the other villages in the foothills can tell us where Polgar appears in the east at Nyarkozep.”

  “You do not intend to inquire at Tabor Nev?” Rodric asked cautiously.

  “Don’t worry, Rodric. I’m no more eager to meet the janissaries than you are. In any case, I doubt the janissaries know anything of Polgar or Magas Komaron.”

  “The people at Csakvar may be equally ignorant.”

  “In that case, we make our best guess and press on through the hills. We were two of the best Scouts in the Eastern Army. If we can’t find the way, no one can.”

  “It is precisely the second possibility that worries me,” Rodric replied. “Assuming we find the way, can we make it to Magas Komaron before Voros Korom?”

  “Voros Korom will wait until the full moon to attack, when the wraiths are at full strength. That gives us eleven days. Unless the route is very circuitous, we should arrive a day or two before the attack.”

  Rodric shook his head. “You are supposed to be keeping me sober, not driving me to drink. But lead on, old friend. I will follow you to the grave if need be, and dead men are the soberest of all.”

  We had come to a place where the trail narrowed again, and Rodric allowed his mount to slip behind mine. I was glad of this, for the conversation had drained me, and I hadn’t even gotten to the more befuddling part of the song.

  We made camp just before dusk. In truth, I was too exhausted to do much more than pull out my bedroll, wash down some dry biscuits with watered-down beer, and fall asleep. Vili and Rodric must have gathered wood for a fire and tended to the horses. We did not set a watch; bandits rarely ventured this far east and we had not heard of any recent Barbarok incursions onto the plain. Our greatest enemies at present were time and fatigue.

  I awoke at dawn, ravenous with hunger but otherwise feeling much stronger. We breakfasted on more biscuits, jerky, and some mushrooms Vili had gathered. An hour later, we were back on our horses, heading east. At some point I would have to try again to meet Eben, but we had no time to spare. Traveling to Veszedelem took a lot out of me, and I needed all my strength.

  We made good time across the plain over the next several days, which was a relief, because despite my feigned confidence, I suspected that decoding the clues in the rest of Bolond’s song was going to take some time. The skies remained clear and the air was cold but still. At night, the temperature dipped below freezing, and we kept a fire burning to ward off the cold. We spent the eighth evening of our journey at an inn at Csakvar, in the foothills of the Kerepes Mountains. Our good fortune continued: an old woman there, named Nusi, claimed to have spent her youth in a Barbarok camp, where she became acquainted with the tribe’s soothsayer. Soothsayers have an uncanny understanding of the movements of the stars, and Nusi had picked up a fair amount of knowledge herself. In answer to my inquiries, she pointed to a gap between two peaks and informed me that on Nyarkozep, Polgar would arise precisely between them. I thanked her and gave her an erme, which she accepted with a toothless grin.

  The afternoon of the second day after leaving Csakvar, my confidence began to wane. From many miles away, the two peaks had appeared as twins, but now I saw that the one on the right was in fact many miles more distant. As we drew closer, the peak on the left grew until it towered over us while the peak that had been on the left disappeared entirely from view. The guidance that had seemed so precise from twenty leagues away was now revealed to be hopelessly vague. There was no road to speak of; just an ancient riverbed str
ewn with gravel and dotted with scrubby plants. The riverbed forked at countless places, and it was impossible to know where any particular branch would take us. We kept to the path of Polgar as best we could, with Vili occasionally climbing to the summit of a rocky hill in an attempt to discern the way forward. It was a slow and frustrating way to travel, and after a few hours I was forced to admit that I couldn’t begin to guess the correct direction.

  Nor was this our only worry: Vili advised us after one of his reconnaissance climbs that we were being followed. He had seen a lone rider, about a half mile behind us. The traveler’s presence could not be coincidence; there was no known pass through the mountains this way. Either he was following us or he was himself on his way to Magas Komaron. An ordinary man would pose no threat to us, but my experience with sorcerers like Eben and Radovan suggested an abundance of caution. We would ambush the man, bind him before he had a chance to wreak any mischief, and then interrogate him.

  I reluctantly ceded the key role in the ambush to Vili. I was not yet fully recovered, and the truth was that Vili was stealthier and quicker than either Rodric or myself. He crouched behind a boulder by which the traveler would be forced to pass while Rodric perched in the rocks above and I hid behind another boulder nearby. The plan was for Rodric to fire an arrow into the rocks to the man’s left. The clatter of the arrow would serve as a diversion as well as a signal to Vili, who would spring from behind the boulder and pull the man from his horse. I would then leave my hiding place to assist Vili in subduing the man or getting control of his horse, depending on the exigencies of the moment.

  It was a good plan, and we waited that way for the rider for over an hour. At last, thinking the rider must have passed and Rodric had fallen asleep, I stood up and signaled him. He answered with a shrug. Vili, seeing that I had left my hiding place, stood up, and Rodric clambered down the slope toward him. The three of us met on the riverbed to consider our options.