The Rise of the Demon Prince

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The Rise of the Demon Prince Page 14

by Robert Kroese


  “Providing another line of defense against the demon.”

  “Or a distraction, at the very least. If the janissaries can slow the demon’s advance, Barbarok archers may be able to take him down from the spires.”

  “If they don’t stand by and let the wraiths tear through their enemies.”

  “It isn’t a perfect plan,” I acknowledged. “But it’s the only chance I have of stopping Voros Korom. The less of the demon’s work we do for him, the better.”

  “None of this is any of my concern, of course. My father entered into the alliance with Nagyvaros in a cynical hope of keeping our tribe alive for a few more generations. He never expected the Barbaroki to break through.”

  “It seemed a safe bet,” I said. “Unfortunately, the janissaries are not what they once were. It is my understanding that there was at one time an entire division dedicated to the western part of the Plain of Savlos. Even if the Barbaroki had broken through, they would have faced a formidable battle before ever reaching the city.”

  Nebjosa nodded. “That division was disbanded when the Governor grew afraid that the people were going to revolt over the taxes levied to pay the troops. My tribe is all that stands between the Barbaroki and Nagyvaros. But we are too few to stop them.”

  “I understand that you must be very reluctant to renege on your father’s pledge, but no good can come from adhering to it. Your tribe will be destroyed, and Nagyvaros will not be saved. I consider the alliance to have been broken when the Governor failed to provide an adequate defense.”

  Nebjosa shook his head. “The alliance was unconditional. My father, cynic though he was, could be naïve at times. If the alliance is to be broken, I must take responsibility for it.”

  “Then you will not intervene?”

  Nebjosa got to his feet and walked past me to the door of the tent. I followed. Together we stood for some time, watching the sun set behind the hundreds of tents and semi-permanent structures that made up the Torzsek camp. A group of children played nearby, and men and women hurried past carrying baskets of food or jugs of water. Every one of them stopped a moment to bow toward Chief Nebjosa before continuing on their way.

  “A Torzsek who will not go to war when duty requires it cannot lead,” he said.

  “You fear being deposed?”

  “I fear nothing. I merely state the truth. I will send word to the Governor tonight, and tomorrow morning I will announce to my people that that the Torzseki will not intervene to stop the Barbarok assault on Nagyvaros. By tomorrow night, I will no longer be chief.”

  “What will happen to you?”

  “I do not know. I will probably be exiled, which is a fate worse than death among the Torzseki.”

  “I am very sorry, Chief Nebjosa.”

  “Do not be sorry. It is my decision.”

  “Do you know who will replace you?”

  “I have three sons, but my line is now tainted. The tribal elders will look for another chief among our warriors.” Seeing the look on my face, the chief managed a bitter smile. “Worry not, Konrad. It will take some time. The elders will condemn me, but at the same time they will understand the wisdom of my decision. I expect they will select a strong warrior as chief, but only after the Barbarok attack.”

  “The elders will sacrifice you while benefiting from your decision?”

  “Is this not the way among your people?”

  “Far too often, I’m afraid.”

  “Do not worry, Konrad. I do this not because you ask it, but because it is the only way to save my tribe. Your conscience can remain clear—or at least no more sullied than it was before you came to me.”

  I nodded, returning his grim smile. “Thank you, Chief,” I said. But I knew in my heart I had betrayed Byrn and my other comrades in the janissaries. I only hoped it was not in vain.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I had hoped to remain at the Torzsek camp until the dust had settled from the Barbarok attack, but I saw now that this would be impossible. My relations with the Torzseki depended on my personal relationship with Chief Nebjosa; if he were deposed—or worse, exiled—I would be in great danger there. The elders would no doubt deduce that I had something to do with Nebjosa’s decision not to fight the Barbaroki, and they might decide I needed to be punished as well. The Torzseki’s fear of my sorcery might save me, but I could not be certain of it. I had for some time thought that Nebjosa suspected I was not a true sorcerer, but most of the Torzseki believed me to be capable of powerful magic. Whether the elders believed it, I did not know, and I preferred not to find out.

  I slept in a tent near Nebjosa’s and left at dawn the next day, reluctantly leaving Ember in the Torzseki’s care. She would do me no good in the city, and I did not want her to be there when the Barbaroki attacked. There was no place for me to go but Nagyvaros. To the west was the River Zold; to the south was Delivaros, the seat of the Cult of Turelem; and to the east was nothing but vast, empty plain. Besides, at some point I was going to have to return to Nagyvaros to face Voros Korom, and it would presumably be easier to enter the city now than after it was controlled by the Barbaroki. I just needed to find a place in the city to lay low until the battle was over. The Lazy Crow was as good a place as any; its location tucked away in a corner of the Hidden Quarter meant that it would likely be the last place in Nagyvaros to be subdued. They might not even get to it before Voros Korom attacked.

  I waited nearly two hours to be let in the southern gate. I could not tell if there was more traffic than usual or if the guards were just taking their sweet time letting anyone in. I suspect it was a bit of both. Had word reached the city that the Barbaroki were coming? Had Rodric managed to warn the Governor? My inquiries produced no useful information, but that was probably the result of my appearance and the general unease of the crowd. Most people averted their eyes when I approached, holding their children close or busying themselves with securing a load of produce on their cart for the hundredth time. While I waited, I scanned the eastern horizon. I suspected the Barbarok force would not arrive until the next day; although they traveled by horse, they couldn’t move as quickly as my party had, because they had to pull supply wagons. It was possible that the Barbaroki would send a group of raiders on ahead, but I doubted they would. Their best bet was to bring as much of their force to bear against the city as possible.

  As I continued to watch the horizon, moving slowly and haltingly toward the gate, I began to worry that the sentries would not let me in at all. In the end, though, my passage was surprisingly quick. By this time all the city’s gendarmes knew of the man with the strange markings on his face who lived in the Hidden Quarter. I was tempted to ask the guards about the commotion but didn’t want to press my luck.

  When I reached the Lazy Crow, however, I was greeted with bad news: the gendarmes had arrived during the night and hauled away Rodric, Vili and Ilona. The innkeeper, Dimka, did not know where they had been taken. Asking around of the other patrons and shopkeepers in the area availed nothing. A few people had seen the gendarmes marching through the street late at night, but no one knew where they had gone.

  I had a feeling I knew why my friends had been arrested: if they had tried to get to the Governor to warn him of the Barbarok attack, they may very well have been taken to be spies. Probably they had been turned away by the sentries at the gate of the Governor’s palace, and then word had gotten to someone higher up in the government, who had ordered their arrest. It was exactly the sort of bureaucratic stupidity I’d come to expect from the corrupt and calcified government of Nagyvaros.

  Famished from my travels, I ate lunch and then retired to my room. Though I dreaded it, I knew I must go to Eben to seek his counsel. It had been over a week since I had last talked to him—the equivalent of two years in Veszedelem.

  I sat on the bed and opened a small cut on my finger with my dagger and then forced my mind to the shadow world. I had considered attempting to travel physically to Veszedelem as I had done inadvertently when
I was fighting Voros Korom, but I was not certain I could replicate the feat. In any case, I’d found the experience even more draining than when I’d traveled there only in spirit, and if my physical body were present in Veszedelem, I could easily be killed by any of the monsters that lived there. Leaving my body in Orszag afforded me a bit of security: if I faced a threat in Veszedelem, I had only to return my spirit to my body to be safe. On top of all this, Eben would certainly be able to tell the difference, and I was not at all certain it was to my benefit that he was aware of this newfound ability.

  As always, I found myself on that same familiar spot on the plain. To my right was the ridge that I had climbed over when fleeing from the place where I’d been brought by Voros Korom. Distant shadows moved toward me. I ran to the guard tower and once again commanded the watchman to open the door. I ran across the fog bridge and made my way into the bowels of the keep.

  I found Eben waiting for me.

  “You were expecting me?” I asked.

  “I saw you arrive. Come.” He led me again to the little library, which seemed even dingier and mustier than the last time I had visited.

  “What has taken you so long?” Eben demanded. “I had thought you dead.”

  “I very nearly was. We were unable to stop Voros Korom at Magas Komaron.”

  “That is unsurprising. I doubted even Varastis himself could defeat Voros Korom.”

  “Varastis is long dead,” I said. I’d come to the conclusion that my only chance to kill Voros Korom was to tell Eben the truth of what had happened at Magas Komaron. I was too ignorant of both sorcery and the politics surrounding it to use any information as leverage against Eben. “He was murdered by a mysterious sorcerer seven years ago, along with all of his students save one: a man named Domokos. He was the only man we found alive at Magas Komaron.”

  Eben stared at me for a moment. I wondered if he knew the identity of the man who had killed Varastis, but he said nothing more on the matter. “Then it is indeed fortunate you survived. Domokos’s magic is weak.”

  “He learned much in the past several years, but it was not enough to defeat Voros Korom. Domokos was killed, and the demon still lives. He will reach Nagyvaros within a fortnight.”

  Eben nodded. “Then we are back where we started.”

  “Not exactly,” I said. I proceeded to tell him about the Barbaroki’s advance, the Fourth Division being too late to stop them, and my conversation with Chief Nebjosa.

  “You play a dangerous game,” Eben said.

  “I will do whatever is necessary to save Nagyvaros from Voros Korom.”

  “Even if it means handing the city over to the Barbaroki.”

  I shrugged, feeling no desire to account for my actions to Eben.

  Eben went on, “The question, I suppose, is who will be in control of the city when Voros Korom gets there, and how much cooperation we can expect from them.”

  “The gendarmes will not stand long against the Barbaroki, if they choose to fight at all. With any luck, Voros Korom will find himself trapped between the Barbaroki at Nagyvaros and the Fourth Division on the plain. If they can be made to understand the seriousness of the threat, they might even cooperate against Voros Korom.”

  Eben nodded. “A few hundred armed men could defeat Voros Korom,” he said. “But only if the wraiths can be neutralized.”

  “Domokos used a sort of bright light,” I said.

  “Domokos belonged to a different school of magic, but I may be able to teach you to do something similar.”

  “Good. But first, I have another problem to solve. Three of my friends are in prison in Nagyvaros. I need to get them out.”

  “This is a distraction from your mission.”

  “Yes, and I will remain distracted until they are out.”

  Eben sighed. “All right. I may be able to teach you a simple spell or two that will help. Do you know where they are being held?”

  “No, but I know someone who does.”

  *****

  It was late afternoon when I began my ascent of the stairs to the Governor’s palace. The palace was a structure of a type that was unique to Nagyvaros: three of the city’s spires, constructed by the ancient Builders, had been united by a vast triangular edifice and a collection of several bridges. It had been built over several centuries in at least five competing styles, none of which was suited to working in irregular triangles. The building was not beautiful by any means, but it was at least impressive as an architectural abomination. I was intercepted at the front gate by two gendarmes with halberds who stared at my face with suspicion.

  “What is your business here?” demanded the one on the left. They were both large men; the one who had spoken was broad-chested and nearly as tall as I, with fiery red hair. The other was lean and muscular, with a hooked nose and small, contemptuous mouth.

  “I come to see the Governor,” I said.

  The red-haired man guffawed. “Go home, freak. The Governor has no time for the likes of you.”

  “That is for the Governor to decide. I have information for him that he will be most interested to hear.”

  “Give us the message and we’ll see that it’s passed on,” said the tall man, already bored with the exchange.

  “The information is very sensitive,” I said. Leaning closer, I said, “It concerns a traitor in the Governor’s inner circle. I must deliver the message directly to him.”

  “Oh, then by all means,” said the red-haired man. “Please allow me to take you right to the Governor’s private chambers. By Turelem’s tits, man. Even if you didn’t look like a carnival attraction, we wouldn’t fall for—”

  The man’s eyes went wide and he clutched at his throat. His face turned bright red and he fell to his knees. His comrade stared open-mouthed for a moment before drawing his sword.

  “Easy, now,” I said, holding up my hand. “I’ve just pulled all the air out of your friend’s lungs. He’ll be fine in a moment. I will cast the same spell on you if I must, but I’d prefer not to. I am a powerful sorcerer, and I have a very important message for the Governor. I need you to take me to him immediately.”

  “You idiot,” the tall man said, pointing his sword at me. “You think we’re going to let you anywhere near the Governor after what you just did?”

  The red-haired man was now on his hands and knees, gasping for breath.

  “Please, just listen,” I said, steadying myself in an effort to keep from revealing just how much the spell had taken out of me. Eben had assured me it was the easiest way to temporarily incapacitate a man, but it had drained a great deal of my strength. If I hadn’t needed to impress the sentries with a show of magic, I’d have been better off punching the man in the nose. “The Governor is in great danger. I just need to speak with him for—”

  Something hard struck me on the back of my head and everything went black.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I was awakened by a splash of cold water on my head. I lay on my side on a stone floor. My feet were bound and my hands were tied behind my back. A sharp point pressed against my neck.

  “Pull another trick like that one you did outside and you’re dead, understand?” said a voice from above me. I could tell from the echoes that I was in a large stone-walled room, but from my position I could see nothing but the floor and a bit of one wall. I didn’t dare move with the sharp point against my neck, but I got the sense there were several people in the room. Despite my seemingly dire circumstances, I felt a surge of hope. Had my plan actually worked?

  The voice I heard next was a man’s—a well-modulated tenor speaking in refined consonants that seemed to come to me from somewhere far away. It was an aristocratic and authoritative voice. It said, “The gendarmes say you claim to have a message for me.”

  “Yes, Your Lordship,” I said, still not looking up. “It is a matter of great urgency.”

  “You understand why I would be dubious regarding the motives of a sorcerer.”

  “Yes, Your Lordship.�
��

  “Sorcery is a serious crime, you know. Although it doesn’t seem that you are much of a sorcerer, to be apprehended so easily.”

  “I allowed myself to be apprehended, Your Lordship. It was the only way I could think of to get an audience with you.”

  The Governor laughed. “You are either a very clever schemer or an excellent liar.”

  “I am both, Your Lordship. But I come only to tell you the truth.”

  “What truth is that?”

  “Nagyvaros is in great danger.”

  “You speak of the Barbaroki moving across the plain? I received word this morning. The towers are manned and every able-bodied man is being recruited to defend the walls. Nagyvaros will stand.”

  “Nagyvaros will fall, probably within a day. Forgive my boldness, Your Lordship, but I suspect we would not be having this conversation if you were confident of victory.”

  The room was completely silent for a few seconds. Then the Governor spoke again. “Get him on his feet.”

  Rough hands grabbed my arms and pulled me up. They continued to hold me, for which I was grateful; I was too woozy to stand. The pressure of the sword tip had left my neck, but now one of the guards held a knife blade to my throat. After my demonstration at the gate, they weren’t taking any chances.

  The room was a vast rectangle, with a ceiling that disappeared into darkness. I stood near the center. The guards oriented me toward one end of the room, where an ornate throne rested on a raised dais. A middle-aged man with curly blond hair and fine features sat on the throne. He wore a deep blue smock embroidered with intricate patterns in gold thread. Next to him stood an older, hunchbacked man with a long white beard, who wore a similar smock, but in gray. In each corner behind the throne was a guard bearing a halberd.

 

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