WELCOME, RYGHAR-CALLED-KIRIN. YOU HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO ME SINCE YOUR BIRTH.
“Who,” Kirin paused and wet his lips. “Who are you?”
I AM JUDGEMENT.
He swallowed a hundred questions and asked the only important one. “What should I do?”
SHOW ME WHAT YOU ARE.
* * *
Terrell gaped at the sight of the purple glow.
He raised it to purple. I only managed blue. He is judged more worthy than me. All the years I’ve spent preparing, and Kirin is more acceptable? Acid jealousy scorched his heart. His hands clenched into fists so tight that his fingernails gouged his hard sword-calluses. He can’t possibly be as good a king as I could!
Then shame flooded him. Oh no. I’m a fool. This too was a test, and I failed it. Even with all the warnings, I still chose Azerin and Zablock’s path. My vanity is more important to me than my service. He bowed his head and wished that the sky would fall and crush him. My God, my God, I have failed Thee and my line both. I am truly not worthy.
* * *
Chisaad leaped up the last steps and burst onto the top of the Hill. His shocked gaze took in Terrell standing head-bowed in front of the second bollard, the passed-out Ilvar mage sprawled on his carpet, and—Kirin? With a hand on the Throne and purple radiance bathing him.
Kirin is royal? Chisaad nearly choked in shock. He can’t be!
“Get away before it kills you, boy!” He barked in his most commanding voice as he strode closer. Meanwhile his mind keyed his planted spells and activated them all at once.
Kirin turned to face him as the purple glow shrank to a glowing ball above the Throne. “It won’t kill me, Magist- No. I’ll never call you that again.” A cold rage filled the boy’s face. “You betrayed me and Terrell both. My father and my wife both died because of you.” His hand went to the knife at his belt, drew it and came at him.
Even after months of studying the lad, Chisaad’s ingrained habits betrayed him. He threw a lightning bolt at Kirin. It vanished into his Shadow as if it had never been. Then Kirin was on him and raised the knife.
At the last second Chisaad dissolved it to dust. Kirin’s fist slammed his chest almost hard enough to crack ribs and the wizard staggered. Half of his spells shattered in a whirl of broken magics.
Kirin swore and flung the handful of dust aside, grabbed Chisaad’s robes and dragged his face down to his own. “You murdering bastard,” the boy growled, his eyes, black as the pit, staring into Chisaad’s.
The wizard’s knees gave way and by pure chance he did the right thing; he dropped to the pavement. Kirin lost his grip and tripped over him, the boy’s arms windmilling. Fear hammering in his veins, Chisaad scrambled across the pavement toward the Throne and triggered his planted spells. As Kirin recovered, three ghostly shapes erupted from the pavement like sand vipers. Chisaad scrambled between them and staggered to his feet as he ran for the Throne. Behind him Kirin paused, stared at the slithering coils of jet, ruby, and gold while Terrell shouted at him. Then the boy charged through them.
The hesitation had lasted just long enough for Chisaad to make it to the Throne. Kirin caught him on the dias, seized his shoulder with wrenching strength, spun him around and slammed him against the Throne’s left arm. A painful jolt shot up and down the wizard’s back and for an instant he thought his spine had been broken. Kirin stared into his face and growled like a beast. Terror rippled over Chisaad like a tsunami; he had never been manhandled in his life. Then Kirin drew back a fist and slammed it into his soft belly. Pain exploded.
He can beat me bloody and I cannot stop him, Chisaad knew. He ignored pain and fear both to stretch out his right hand and grasp the Crown.
I RECOGNIZE YOU, CHISAAD DuVAYA DiSILBARI, said a voice in Chisaad’s head.
“I am the eldest son of King Tollir!” Chisaad gasped as Kirin punched him again. “You will serve me, Throne! I compel you!” He triggered the strongest of his carefully laid spells.
A purple glow wrapped the crown and flowed up the wizard’s forearm. Kirin, stunned, stopped punching him to stare. Chisaad tugged on the Crown.
It didn’t move.
YOU CAN CORRUPT THE SPELLS YOUR ANCESTORS LAID IN THIS VESSEL, the voice inside his head calmly informed him. BUT I WHO INHABIT IT CANNOT BE COMPELLED BY ANY MORTAL.
Then the purple glow around his hand turned black and began to flow up his arm.
“No!” Chisaad screeched. He pushed aside pain and fear entirely to push back with every scrap of power at his command. The black tide stopped, wavered, began to reverse.
Kirin ripped his magic from him with a twohanded motion that spun the boy right off the dias. He caught his balance on the pavement, held up triumphant fists roiling with wizardly power, and absorbed it.
Chisaad, bruised, emptied, stared in horrified fascination as his hand melted to black ash, then his arm, and finally his mind.
* * *
Ashes blew away on the breeze. Terrell blinked as the afterimages faded from his eyes. On the Steps, voices were raised in consternation.
Kirin stepped back onto the dias, put his hands upon the crown and lifted it from the Throne. Purple light bathed him.
Terrell stepped forward and knelt before his brother. “My King,” he said, his voice choked. I hope I can be useful to him, help him learn what he needs to know, he thought in repentance. Please God, help me to help him to be a good king.
Then Kirin pressed the Crown down on his head.
The weight was both featherlight and heavy as a mountain. Startled, Terrell shot to his feet as the Ilvar mage sat up and gaped owllike at both of them.
“This is what I am,” Kirin declared calmly.
A vast sense of approval answered him; Terrell felt it too. Then they both heard the Throne’s voice whisper in their heads. THAT IS A WORTHY DEED FOR A WORTHY MAN.
The overwhelming presence faded out of both their minds.
Terrell’s hands crept up to touch the shining silver. “You—you—”
*Yes,* Kirin answered inside his head. *I know what I am—and what you can be. You’ll be a great king, and I’m going back to the Sump to be a great acrobat. Don’t tell them about me, please. Let Ryghar stay dead. Just let me be Kirin DiUmbra.*
Terrell stared at him. *But you don’t even really know what you can do yet! You have power—*
*I know enough. Promise me, please, brother? Keep my secret?*
Terrell nodded slowly. *As you wish. I’m not sure it will work, but I promise.*
Kirin turned to look at the Ilvar mage. *Now please, send me home.*
Terrell gestured as Kirin stepped on the carpet. “Take him where he wishes to go, Master of the Air.”
The Ilvar bowed and raised his carpet. Kirin crouched easily on the moving fabric, as balanced as if he rode a trapeze. His Shadow stayed tight within him as the carpet slipped over the back of the hill and descended.
Then two panting priestesses and the remaining Twenty swarmed over the top of the Five Hundred Steps, led by the stolidly marching golem. Terrell had to turn his attention away from his disappearing brother.
But not my heart. Oh my dearest brother, what you have done for me!
* * *
The carpet dived down the steep slope, gained speed, and halfway to the bottom it soared out over the crowd. Kirin rode it easily, ignoring the mob of onlookers hundreds of feet below.
The Master of the Air looked at him in more than a little awe. “Where should I take you, My Lord?”
“The roof of the Sulfur Serpent. I’ll show you the way. Then forget you ever met me.”
The wizard bowed his head.
They flew away as people below shouted and pointed, but the crowd lost track of them soon enough, when a greater spectacle distracted them.
* * *
The Hierarch looked from Terrell to the golem. “Two?” she panted.
“Only one,” Terrell told her as he stalked toward his likeness. “That is a false image made by Chisaad, who t
ried to usurp the Throne.”
Dona Seraphina’s eyes narrowed and she reached out to send her aura into the golem. “What—”
The golem slapped her hand aside and drew its jeweled belt knife. “I am the true king!” it shouted in Terrell’s voice and leaped to meet him, blade poised.
Terrell raised a hand and focused his Light. The golem dissolved into a collapsing mass of wood and wire. The knife clattered on the pavement amid gasps from the Twenty. All eyes went to the silver crown on Terrell’s head and the glowing amethyst atop it.
“This is shockingly irregular!” howled DiSolera. “The Choosing must be done where all candidates can see! I protest!”
“I understand your concern, My Lord, and I thank you for it,” Terrell told him politely. He lifted the Crown off his head and set it on the Throne once more. “Please, any one of you who is numbered among the Twenty, feel free to test yourselves against the Throne’s will. Only pardon Chisaad’s ashes there on the seat and floor; he proved too unworthy for the Throne to tolerate.”
The next man in line hesitated, thanked Terrell, gently laid a hand on the crown and tugged. He hastily released it when it didn’t budge and bowed himself away. Three others tried with similar trepidation, and similar results. DiSolera arrogantly walked up and seized it in both hands—then jumped and fell backward off the dais as sparks flew from the immovable Crown.
“I don’t think it likes you, My Lord,” Seraphina observed loudly, to a mass chuckle as the shaken noble scrambled to his feet and backed away.
The rest tried it with no more sparks. Terrell picked up the Crown again, put it on his head, and sat on the Throne. A purple light shot from the top of the Hill and burst like the biggest fireworks ever seen in Aretzo, and a great trumpet rang in the minds of all watching.
The crowd roared. The Hierarch, who had observed the whole effort with gimlet-eyed concentration, relaxed and smiled. “We have a new King,” she proclaimed, as Penghar pelted up the Steps to announce Ap Marn’s arrest.
*Brother,* Terrell sent out the thought before his people swept him into their embrace and the thousand details of duty. *I’ll be here for you, always.*
* * *
Kirin didn’t answer with words. The Master of Air let him off on the great humped roof of the Sulfur Serpent as celebration filled the streets and courtyard below. Kirin balanced there on the ridge to look down at it all.
I have to find my son, he thought, exhilaration fading to melancholy. Mourn Maia; they must have buried her by now. Tell everybody about Pieter and see if we can bring his body home. Clean up, get my clothes patched. And get on with life.
He climbed down the familiar slates, swung over the edge and dropped onto the top landing of the back stairway, and went inside to startled shouts of joy and welcome.
All the while, his Shadow nestled under his heart, calm and waiting.
OTHER WORKS
For more works by Peter Sartucci, visit http://www.petersartucci.com/author.html.html.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Table of Contents
Copyright
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Maps
Chapter 1: Kirin
Chapter 2: Terrell
Chapter 3: Chisaad
Chapter 4: Kirin
Chapter 5: Chisaad
Chapter 6: Terrell
Chapter 7: Kirin
Chapter 8: Terrell
Chapter 9: Kirin
Chapter 10: Terrell
Chapter 11: Kirin
Chapter 12: Chisaad
Chapter 13: Terrell
Chapter 14: Kirin And Terrell
Chapter 15: Chisaad And Terrell
Chapter 16: Chisaad And Terrell
Chapter 17: Terrell, Chisaad, And Ymera
Chapter 18: Ymera And Kirin
Chapter 19: Kirin And Ymera
Chapter 20: Kirin And Ymera
Chapter 21: Terrell
Chapter 22: Chisaad
Chapter 23: Kirin And Chisaad
Chapter 24: Kirin
Chapter 25: Chisaad
Chapter 26: Terrell And Kirin
Chapter 27: Terrell And Chisaad
Chapter 28: Kirin And Terrell
Chapter 29: Kirin And Terrell
Chapter 30: Kirin And Terrell
Chapter 31: Maia And Kirin
Chapter 32: Darnaud
Chapter 33: Kirin
Chapter 34: Zella
Chapter 35: Kirin
Chapter 36: Chisaad
Chapter 37: Terrell
Chapter 38: Kirin
Chapter 39: Terrell
Chapter 40: Kirin
Chapter 41: Terrell
Chapter 42: Kirin
Chapter 43: Kirin And Terrell
Chapter 44: Chisaad
Chapter 45: Kirin
Chapter 46: Terrell And Kirin
Chapter 47: Kirin
Chapter 48: Terrell
Chapter 49: Kirin
Chapter 50: Terrell
Chapter 51: Chisaad
Chapter 52: Kirin And Terrell
Chapter 53: Terrell And Kirin
Chapter 54: Pieter And Pen
Chapter 55: Terrell And Kirin
Chapter 56: Chisaad, Terrell And Kirin
Other Works
Shadow and Light Page 56
