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DDDDD ZZZZZZ //
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D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE ||
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D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 9
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-=========================================================+<OOOOOOOOO>|)
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D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Number 5
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DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE ||
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\\
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\
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========================================================================
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DargonZine Distributed: 08/10/1996
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Volume 9, Number 5 Circulation: 614
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========================================================================
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Contents
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Editorial Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
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Shadowstone 4 Dafydd Cyhoeddwr Naia 13, 1014
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Coup Jon Evans Sy 1014
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Screams of War Mark A. Murray Sy 1014
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========================================================================
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DargonZine is the publication vehicle of the Dargon Project, a
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collaborative group of aspiring fantasy writers on the Internet.
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We welcome new readers and writers interested in joining the project.
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Please address all correspondance to <dargon@shore.net> or visit us
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on the World Wide Web at http://www.shore.net/~dargon. Back issues
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are available from ftp.etext.org in pub/Zines/DargonZine. Issues and
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public discussions are posted to the Usenet newsgroup rec.mag.dargon.
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DargonZine 9-5, ISSN 1080-9910, (C) Copyright August, 1996 by
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the Dargon Project. Editor: Ornoth D.A. Liscomb <ornoth@shore.net>.
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All rights reserved. All rights are reassigned to the individual
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contributors. Stories may not be reproduced or redistributed without
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the explicit permission of the author(s) involved, except in the case
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of freely reproducing entire issues for further distribution.
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Reproduction of issues or any portions thereof for profit is forbidden.
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========================================================================
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Editorial
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by Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
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<ornoth@shore.net>
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Many years ago, there was a happy, peaceful, productive land. But
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some of its citizens felt it needed some excitement: a major event that
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would unify its citizens and give them a rallying point to help focus
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their efforts. So the call went out for volunteers to wage war.
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The vocal advocates of war claimed that the battle would be quickly
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and easily won. There'd be few casualties, and fighting would be limited
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to those who volunteered for service. All would go precisely as planned
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and be executed like clockwork with triumph following triumph, and the
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eventual outcome would be a strengthened populace, unified by this great
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cause.
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So forces were mobilized and the first battles were fought. It
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quickly became apparent that instead of a series of quick victories,
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each battle would be a long drawn-out siege. Although ground was made
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with every battle, the overall effort took on the nature of a lengthy
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war of attrition. It would be neither quick nor easy.
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The pre-war notion that there would be few casualties proved
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horrendously wrong. As the war dragged on longer than anyone had
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anticipated, those eager and energetic volunteers who had won the most
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territory were lost, and there were no volunteer reinforcements to
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replace them. The war ground to a dead stop. It wasn't going as planned,
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and with the war's most vocal advocates lost in the fighting, the
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noncombatants began to voice their dissatisfaction with the course of
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events. Many expressly turned their back on the war to work toward their
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own goals. The country was in big trouble.
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But despite the growing unpopularity of the war, the country was
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committed to that course of action, and had to bring the war to a
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conclusion. An unpopular draft was instituted, drawing people into the
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war who had been told it would never effect them. Few survived without
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getting sucked into the seemingly unending war effort. After nearly a
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decade of fighting, popular opinion finally caused the war to be brought
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to an abortive conclusion far short of its original goals.
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The people had been led off to war thinking it would be easy,
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glorious, and painless. What they experienced was seemingly unending
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drudgery, divisiveness, and pain. Although there were victories along
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the way, the most valuable outcome of the war was the painfully-won
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lesson that war is hell. The war was the biggest mistake in the history
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of the land.
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The punchline is that I'm not talking about a country -- I'm
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talking about the Dargon Project, and our Baranur-Beinison war
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storyline.
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Since the project's inception, we've tried to create communal
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events that span storylines, so that individual writers can reference
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common events and give their works a sense of unity with what everyone
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else is doing. Back in 1988, a war between the kingdoms of Baranur and
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Beinison seemed like an excellent event which everyone could incorporate
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into their stories. Unfortunately, it didn't take us very long to
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realize that waging war in a fictional world is just as hazardous as it
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is in the real world. We found ourselves making many of the same stupid
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mistakes that real nations have made. Eight years later, we're still
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trying to put the beast to rest. But with the publication of this issue,
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we have passed a milestone:
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The war's over.
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Boy, it feels good to say that! So good, I think I'll say it again:
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the war is *over*!
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This issue contains Jon Evan's "Coup" storyline which officially
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marks the end of the war between Baranur (to whom Dargon owes fealty)
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and Beinison. Jon was one of those people who started out as a
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"noncombatant" but who got drafted into finishing the war storyline when
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key writers left the project. He deserves huge thanks for his
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willingness to pick up the slack in the war storyline, as demonstrated
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in "Coup" and "Laraka III".
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Although this is the official end of the war, you'll still see
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several stories which deal with the aftermath of the war. War has
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lasting effects which can't be ignored, and this war is a historical
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fact that will remain evident in our works for some time to come.
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But that's not going to stop us from celebrating the accomplishment
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of something which has caused us so much pain and which we've been
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working toward for so many long years.
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The war is over!!!
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========================================================================
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Shadowstone
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Part IV
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by Dafydd Cyhoeddwr
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<white@duvm.ocs.drexel.edu>
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Naia 13, 1014
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Naia 13, 1014.
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Second bell.
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The Refuge of Thornodd's Raiders, in the Hills outside of Port Andestn,
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Duchy Monrodya.
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Panic gripping him, Chandras darted immediately to the nearest
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group of raiders, keeping track of what the grey-eyed man by the doorway
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was doing. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he quickly checked
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all 4 of the raiders in the group he had approached (no grey eyes!)
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before disturbing their conversation. In a low voice, he said, "Pardon
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me, but who is that standing by the doorway there?"
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One of the raiders started to say, "Oh, that's ..." in a normal
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tone of voice, but Chandras said "Shhhhh! Not so loud, please!"
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The raider frowned, but complied. In a softer voice, he said,
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"That's Sennex."
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"Have you known him long? Was he with you when you planned your
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raid on the mining camp?"
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"Why? What does it matter?"
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"Just tell me, please!"
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The raider shrugged and said, "Well, I've known him for years -- he
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was a Raider before I joined.
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"And, no he wasn't with us then. In fact, we found him wandering in
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the hills as we were returning from that raid. He said he remembers
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being knocked unconscious by those Minions, and then he woke up in a
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ravine, tied hand and foot. He got himself loose, and was trying to find
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his way to the Refuge when our group stumbled across him. We figured he
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must have fallen from the horse of the Minion who was carrying him."
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"Yeah, or maybe he was lying," Chandras said. He shook his head,
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and stopped whispering, even though the group of raiders continued to
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look at him strangely for asking such odd questions. "Do you have any
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extra weapons I could borrow? I suddenly feel like I need to go armed."
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He was led through one of the sleeping chambers to a small storage
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cave, where he picked up a sword. He contemplated trying to find armor
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that fit him from among the extra pieces lying there, but he had no real
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intention of going into battle -- the sword was for a more immediate
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use.
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When he returned to the main chamber, Thornodd was just reentering
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it as well. Chandras quickly checked for Sennex, and found him across
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the room from the opening with a strange satisfied smirk on his face.
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Chandras edged his way closer to the grey-eyed man as Thornodd gathered
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everyone around the table again. Chandras noticed that Jerek had also
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returned, and he had a large open book in his hands that he was reading
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very intently.
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Thornodd had a very serious look on her face as she regarded her
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gathered raiders. Chandras watched carefully, and saw that Sennex was
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careful to avert his eyes from the Captain as her gaze swept around the
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table. His suspicions completely confirmed, Chandras stepped back a
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little from the table so that he was mostly behind the grey-eyed man.
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And he raised his new sword, ready for the right moment.
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It came sooner than he had expected. Thornodd started speaking
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abruptly with, "We have had a visit from our guest's unhuman friend. She
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appeared out of thin air in front of Jerek and I and told us three
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things -- three very important things. These were ..."
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Chandras decided that Mistress Olmehri didn't need to know more. He
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shouted, "Wait, Captain Thornodd! There is a traitor in your midst!" And
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he thrust his sword into Sennex's back as hard as he was able.
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Everyone turned and looked in Chandras' direction at his shout, and
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everyone gasped as about a foot of blade suddenly protruded from
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Sennex's stomach. And everyone took a step back when the spy just
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laughed. Even though Chandras had been half expecting it, he cried out
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when he felt the sword begin to move in his hand of its own accord. The
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blade moved sideways surprisingly quickly, and in moments it exited from
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Sennex's side. It fell out of Chandras' limp hand and clattered to the
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floor, startling everyone into sudden motion.
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Sennex turned to run, still laughing superiorly. Almost everyone
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rushed the man and bore him to the floor. It wasn't easy -- Sennex
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pushed and shoved, tossing raiders left and right, but eventually by
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weight of numbers the spy was pinned down.
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Thornodd walked over and looked down at the still struggling man.
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Chandras followed her and watched her examine Sennex, staring into his
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eyes. She nodded in resignation, and said, "Take him into the farthest
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chamber and bind him with chains. You needn't be gentle -- this is not
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our friend Sennex."
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Ten raiders wrestled Sennex to his feet and started dragging him
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away while others went to fetch the chains. As he was dragged out of the
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main chamber he shouted, "The Mistress knows everything! You cannot
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win!" He started to laugh again, a loud, insane laugh that echoed around
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the chamber and only slowly faded away.
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It took a while to get everyone back around the table. The raiders
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who had bundled Sennex away took their time to make sure he was well
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secured. Thornodd detailed one raider to go up to the Lookout to make
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sure that their watcher was fine and that no sign of the Minions could
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be seen. Other errands were run, checking defense positions, checking
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stores in case they got caught in a siege situation, and Jerek took the
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opportunity to continue his reading. But eventually, everyone (except
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the lookout) was back around the table in the main chamber. Thornodd,
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with a grim look on her face, began, "We have certainly had undoubtable
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proof of our guest Chandras' stories. And while I would prefer to simply
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pack up and leave for safer climes, both Chandras' stories and the few
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words Kimmentari herself spoke to me suggest that there is more at stake
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here than we can simply walk away from.
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"As I was about to say before the spy was revealed, Kimmentari told
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Jerek and I three things. One was where to find the book he was looking
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for, and even the legend to read about. Another was to believe
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Chandras's stories, something that none of us should have trouble with
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now. And the third thing was, to quote, 'Remember Masrobak'."
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There were murmurs around the table, as if most of the raiders knew
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why the mention of the Duke of Monrodya's son was significant. Chandras
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didn't, but he put that question aside to ask another. "Did you see the
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pattern, what Kimmentari called the Dance, as she spoke? It made
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everything so clear, when she spoke to me."
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Thornodd shook her head, and Jerek echoed it. "She only briefly
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mentioned the Dance of Thyerin as a preface, an explanation of why she
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was here. But though her music was incredible, there were no images of
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the clarity that you mentioned. Vague suggestions, shadowy shapes, an
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idea of the loom and the threads ... but that was all."
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"Ah," he said, wondering why his perception had been so much more
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precise. "Go on."
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"Jerek, have you learned anything about this Shadowstone that is of
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use to us?"
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Jerek looked up from the book and said, "Yes and no. Kimmentari
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said that the legend in this book was not terribly accurate; that we
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could use it as a guide if we didn't try to extract details from it.
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Trouble is, it is difficult to figure out what information we are
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supposed to accept and what we should discard.
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"Still, comparing this legend against Chandras' story does help. I
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believe that this Shadowstone is a relic created back in the mists of
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time by a race so ancient that the Araf don't even remember them. It has
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the ability to bind the essence of a person to itself completely. After
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being bound, the one who controls the stone is able to command and
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control that essence, and give it what is called a Shadow body that is
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practically indestructible as we have seen.
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"There is a cost -- the controller of the stone must continue to
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provide essences at an ever increasing rate, or be slowly consumed
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instead. And the danger seems to be this: if the controller of the
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Shadowstone is completely consumed, the stone will take over the duties
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of feeding itself, and if that happens it will be virtually unstoppable
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-- if this part of the legend is accurate.
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"While there is still a controller, there would seem to be several
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weaknesses to exploit. One is that killing the controller will return
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the stone to its inert state, which will release the essences bound to
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it. Unfortunately, while the stone is active, the controller is able to
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cause the Shadow body of any and all of the bound essences to appear
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upon command -- in other words, the controller has an indestructible
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army of guards to protect himself, or herself in this case.
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"The other weakness I could find was that of the essences
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themselves. For one, the power available to the stone seems to be
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directly related to how many essences are bound to it. For another,
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being bound to the stone does not kill the person -- in fact, they
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become effectively immortal in that their bodies will not naturally die,
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though they are not invulnerable like their Shadow forms are, and the
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essence cannot exist without the natural body. The legend suggests that
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if the natural body is restored to consciousness, then the stone's hold
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over the essence is reduced -- perhaps to the extent that the controller
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will no longer be able to summon the Shadow form of that essence to her
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defense. It's not much, but its something."
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There was a short period of silence as everyone mulled over the
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deluge of information. Finally, Thornodd spoke. "The Mistress Olmehri
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and her Minions are bringing down some kind of 'doom' on Port Andestn,
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and it seems to fall to us to attempt to forestall this fate. I know
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we've never been a force for 'justice' before, but it would seem that we
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are all that is available, and I find myself compelled to action.
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"So, we have to eliminate the Shadowstone's threat, and to do that
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we must kill Olmehri. But to do that, we must first deal with her shadow
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army as well as any other magical defenses that both Olmehri and the
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stone might use against us. And one way is to reduce the stone's power,
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which conveniently happens to be related to the number of essences it
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controls."
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"So, we need to get into the compound and rescue those bodies,"
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said Jerek. "Just like before. Let's see ... ah, I suppose I could
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produce a philtre that should wake the dead -- not literally, of course
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-- when smelled. Then we'd need someone to get the philtre to them ..."
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"Sounds like a start," said Thornodd. "We have two objectives --
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disrupt the power of the stone so that the defenses available to Olmehri
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are reduced, and eliminate Olmehri herself.
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"Seems to me we need to divide into three groups. One to attack the
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compound and try to divert some of the Minions away from Olmehri and the
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stone. A second group will have to find wherever the original bodies are
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stored and revive them, and lead them away from the compound. And the
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last will have to be the one to attempt to kill Olmehri.
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"These latter two forces will have to be small, since there are so
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few of us in the first place and we need as many as possible in the
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diversionary attack. I think that Jerek and I should be the ones to
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attempt to take Olmehri's life. Volunteers for the second team?"
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Chandras had been thinking throughout Thornodd's speech, and as
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soon as she asked, he said, "I'll volunteer, Captain. I'm pretty good at
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sneaking into places, and I've already been inside the compound. I have
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an idea of where the bodies are."
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"Thank you, Chandras. Any others?"
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"Excuse me, Captain," said Chandras, "but I think I should go
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alone. One person has more of a chance to move unseen than two, and I
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don't think you've got any rooftoppers among you any longer. If Jerek's
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philtre will get them on their feet and moving, I think I can do the
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rest by myself."
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"But, Captain," spoke up one of the raiders. "I don't object to
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trusting our guest with a vital part of the mission, but it only makes
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sense to have someone along who can watch his back, at the very least."
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Thornodd thought for a moment, then said, "That makes sense, but so
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does Chandras. He has experience watching his own back, I think. All
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right, Chandras, you are team two. Okay then, everyone else will provide
|
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the diversion. Let's begin the planning.
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"Jerek, if you would get started putting together those explosive
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packs, and anything else you can muster to add to the confusion we need
|
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to generate. Any suggestions for how we can seem to multiply the number
|
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of people actually attacking?"
|
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As the tactical discussion continued, Chandras pulled away a bit.
|
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His planning skills didn't lend themselves to squad movements, and
|
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besides, he had other things on his mind. Like how to get in to the
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compound, and back out unseen. And what he needed to do when he found
|
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the bodies.
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Naia 13, 1014.
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Seventh bell.
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Corridom Silver Mine, just outside of Port Andestn, Duchy Monrodya.
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Chandras crouched in the shadows where the wall met the cliff on
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the opposite side of the box canyon from where he had entered the
|
|
compound before, and waited for the attack to begin. He looked up at the
|
|
top of the wall he was about to scale, and was again surprised that
|
|
there weren't sentries patrolling it constantly. After all, Olmehri
|
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certainly had the troops to spare. But there once again seemed to only
|
|
be guards at the top of the gatehouse towers.
|
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The first explosion startled him even though he had been expecting
|
|
it. Fire blossomed on top of the same tower as before, this time
|
|
destroying the forward parapet. Chandras thought he saw a body fall
|
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outwards, but he wasn't sure in the flickering firelight.
|
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The shout that arose from within the compound was almost
|
|
immediately drowned out from a much louder sound from the walls of the
|
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box canyon outside the compound. Jerek had used some of his improvised
|
|
magic to produce makeshift implements that would take in the screams and
|
|
shouts of the diversionary group, and then copy, amplify, multiply, and
|
|
send out those sounds over and over until their magical energy ran out.
|
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Chandras saw several people appear on the wall by the guard tower
|
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nearest him and look out, trying to find the source of all that noise.
|
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He turned in time to see the initial charge by the diversionary team,
|
|
again aided by some of Jerek's magic that seemed to quadruple the number
|
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of people running towards the walls. The people who had been on the wall
|
|
vanished, probably to inform those within that there was a massive
|
|
attack coming. Chandras took the opportunity to begin climbing.
|
|
This side of the compound wasn't in any better repair, and he
|
|
climbed the cliff and wall easily. He checked the state of the attack
|
|
and the defense, making sure it was safe before actually climbing onto
|
|
the wall's walkway. There was no convenient building in this corner of
|
|
the compound, so he just climbed down the inside of the wall, using the
|
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cliff when he needed to.
|
|
Once safely on the ground again, he took to the shadows and moved
|
|
over to the corner of the nearest building and looked into the compound.
|
|
Apparently, no ceremony had been going on, because the dais was empty,
|
|
and there were people pouring out of certain buildings and heading for
|
|
the wall. His path was clear to the opening he had seen the victims of
|
|
the ceremony carried to the day before, so he started to make his way
|
|
carefully over to it.
|
|
The second explosion also caught him off guard, and he stumbled and
|
|
fell -- fortunately, completely in shadow, and silently too. He looked
|
|
back and saw flames dancing across the top of the gateway arch. People
|
|
were still coming out of various buildings, and the wall's walkway was
|
|
now about half-filled with Minions hanging over the parapet and
|
|
screaming. Very few were actually firing ranged weapons though -- maybe
|
|
Olmehri hadn't stocked any bows and arrows for her compound?
|
|
Chandras resumed his journey. No one seemed to be so much as
|
|
glancing in his direction -- the diversion was doing its job -- but he
|
|
didn't want to take a chance, so he stayed as hidden as he possibly
|
|
could. Even so, all of his efforts were almost for naught. As he reached
|
|
the edge of the cliff opening he was heading for, he stumbled. He caught
|
|
himself before he fell into a patch of light, and as he paused to catch
|
|
his breath and still his beating heart, two Minion knights, fully
|
|
armored and carrying large swords, charged out of the entrance and
|
|
toward the wall.
|
|
He hadn't thought of there being guards over the bodies. Why guard
|
|
comatose bodies, after all? What boring duty. Of course, these guards
|
|
were rather more loyal than normal, weren't they?
|
|
Chandras waited for a while longer, constantly expecting more
|
|
guards. Finally, he made himself move into the opening, trying to
|
|
stretch his senses to their limit to find any further guards still at
|
|
their posts before they found him.
|
|
The entrance opened onto a tunnel that just kept going on and on,
|
|
no doors, no side passages, no nothing. Torches mounted on the walls
|
|
every so often kept the way lit, but didn't leave much of any place to
|
|
hide. Eventually, Chandras stopped creeping forward and just started
|
|
walking down the center of the tunnel.
|
|
|
|
Kimmentari appeared outside the walls of the compound just as the
|
|
second explosion went off, so that almost no one noticed the splash of
|
|
violet light. She turned and found Thornodd and Jerek staring at her
|
|
from where they were waiting in the corner of the wall and cliff,
|
|
getting ready to climb into the compound. She said, "Come with me. This
|
|
will be easier."
|
|
She waited until first Thornodd, and then Jerek, came over. She
|
|
offered each of them an arm, and when they were holding on, she opened
|
|
the entrance to the Merstaln and went in.
|
|
Their journey was very brief, only two steps, but as they emerged
|
|
in a short alley between two buildings built against the cliff wall at
|
|
the back of the compound, her passengers sagged on her arms, gasping and
|
|
wheezing.
|
|
Kimmentari needed to wait for a little while anyway, so she didn't
|
|
begrudge her companions their recovery time. She needed to steel herself
|
|
for the coming confrontation. Olmehri would have one more chance to
|
|
renounce the shard of her own free will, but Kimmentari had little hope
|
|
that her cousin would relent -- she was too stubborn, too set on revenge
|
|
and on getting her due. If Olmehri refused to see sense, Kimmentari was
|
|
prepared to do what she had to. She only hoped the other dancers were,
|
|
too.
|
|
Thornodd and Jerek had fully recovered by the time the last Minion
|
|
had dashed out of the building that was Kimmentari's destination. She
|
|
said, "Olmehri is in that building, and is currently unguarded by
|
|
Minions. Follow me, I will lead you to her. But be warned, she is not as
|
|
defenseless as she will seem. Ready?"
|
|
The two humans nodded, and Kimmentari set off. In through the open
|
|
door, through empty corridors, and finally into Olmehri's throne room
|
|
without a pause.
|
|
Olmehri looked terrible. She slumped in her throne, head bowed,
|
|
eyes closed. It seemed to Kimmentari that her cousin looked thinner, her
|
|
skin paler, her hair wispier than on her previous visit. The shard was
|
|
taking its toll.
|
|
"Cousin!" she called out. Olmehri slowly opened her eyes and raised
|
|
her head. Even her eyes seemed washed out, drained of their color and
|
|
vitality. "Olmehri, renounce the shard. It is killing you!"
|
|
"No," was the faint reply. "I am still in control, and I will
|
|
succeed. I will never give it up!" Even when trying to shout, Olmehri's
|
|
voice was still a thin whisper.
|
|
"Then you must die, cousin. I am sorry, but if the Shadowstone
|
|
succeeds in consuming you, it will be unstoppable." Kimmentari turned to
|
|
her companions and said, "Kill her."
|
|
The Shadowstone's wooden stand was right next to the throne.
|
|
Olmehri only had to move her arm over a little bit before her hand
|
|
rested on the stone, though it seemed to be a real effort for the
|
|
half-Araf to accomplish it. But when she came into contact with the
|
|
stone, vitality seemed to rush back into her and she straightened up,
|
|
her eyes almost glowing with power.
|
|
She grinned evilly, and said, "You will have no easy time of that,"
|
|
in a voice that was loud and clear and backed by music that almost
|
|
sounded rich enough to be that of a full Araf. Kimmentari looked
|
|
astonished at that, and Olmehri laughed. "Yes, cousin. Now you know why
|
|
I dared the risks of the Shadowstone. It can give me my heritage -- all
|
|
the powers of a full-blood Araf!
|
|
"Yes, all of that *and* the power of the stone itself. You will be
|
|
the ones to die!" She laughed as four Minions armed with swords appeared
|
|
in the room and immediately attacked Thornodd and Jerek. "You, cousin,"
|
|
Olmehri said, eyes locked on Kimmentari, "will be mine to destroy."
|
|
|
|
Chandras finally came to the end of the tunnel and found himself in
|
|
a large room filled with shelves. If he hadn't been expecting something
|
|
like it, he probably would have turned and run, because on the shelves
|
|
were the bodies of the Shadowstone's victims. Row after row, shelf after
|
|
shelf -- there had to be at least a hundred bodies laid out, looking
|
|
like they were sleeping. The room looked like a nightmare version of a
|
|
mortuary.
|
|
He stepped over to the nearest body, and removed the bottle that
|
|
contained the potion Jerek had mixed from his belt pouch. He had been
|
|
thinking about what he had to do ever since he volunteered for this
|
|
task, and he still hadn't quite made up his mind. The potion would rouse
|
|
these people, weakening the Shadowstone's hold over them and thus its
|
|
power. But he had also noted a phrase that Jerek had used when
|
|
recounting the legend of the Shadowstone -- that the essence which the
|
|
stone trapped would vanish if the physical body died. And if disturbing
|
|
the link between stone and essence by awakening the bodies would weaken
|
|
the stone, how much more disruption would occur if the essence went away
|
|
completely?
|
|
He wasn't too surprised that no one seemed to consider that as an
|
|
option since the raiders' purpose was to save their captured fellow
|
|
raiders. But Chandras wasn't one of Thornodd's Raiders. As far as he
|
|
knew, none of his friends were in this room. Which should make that
|
|
option easier to enact, if he could just make up his mind which option
|
|
to choose.
|
|
|
|
Kimmentari prepared herself for Olmehri's magical attack as she
|
|
watched the Raider Captain and her magician battle with the
|
|
indestructible Minions. And then, unbidden, the dreams that had involved
|
|
her in this dance in the first place sprang into her head. She saw them
|
|
both -- the one where the innocents were rescued, and the one where they
|
|
died. She knew that the resolution of the dreams was close -- would the
|
|
right conclusion be reached?
|
|
Then Olmehri launched her first magical assault, and Kimmentari's
|
|
attention was fully diverted to the here and now, which was for the best
|
|
anyway. She had done all she was able to do to -- set the right events
|
|
in motion -- and it was out of her hands now.
|
|
She deflected the assault and was preparing a return blow when one
|
|
of the minions shrieked as if in mortal pain. All eyes turned to him as
|
|
he staggered, then fell to his knees before Olmehri. "Help me!" he
|
|
pleaded to her, before he faded away and vanished.
|
|
|
|
Chandras was surprised by the blood. Perhaps he had seen too many
|
|
blades go into bodies bloodlessly in the past couple of days, but when
|
|
he slit the man's throat he just hadn't expected to get drenched in
|
|
blood. By the gods, there was a lot of it in a body, wasn't there? He
|
|
was glad he hadn't managed to stab Malkhas! And then he began to laugh
|
|
as he looked around the huge rough-cut stone chamber and the five score
|
|
or more bodies stacked neatly on shelves all around it. The laugh got
|
|
more and more hysterical as he realized that somewhere in here was the
|
|
real Malkhas, and that he'd finally get to do what he had set out to do
|
|
in the first place.
|
|
Eventually, he calmed himself down. There seemed to have been no
|
|
reaction to the first death, but there would be one eventually. He felt
|
|
in his belt pouch for the philtre bottle he had put back there. He shook
|
|
his head briefly at the thought of trying to lead a hundred rambling
|
|
zombies out of the compound to safety. Obviously an impossible task. His
|
|
decision had been as much due to that thought as to the realization that
|
|
even weakened, the forces at Olmehri's command would overwhelm the
|
|
remnants of Thornodd's Raiders easily. Olmehri had to be eliminated, and
|
|
only eliminating her source of strength completely was going to
|
|
accomplish that.
|
|
He moved to the next body in a daze. Now that the decision was
|
|
made, could he go through with it? The first man hadn't made a sound, or
|
|
twitched, or anything. If not for the blood, Chandras thought he might
|
|
even be able to imagine that it had been the throat of a dressmaker's
|
|
dummy that he had cut. But there was blood. Blood on the man. Blood on
|
|
his hands and chest. Blood on the shelf. Blood on his knife. Blood,
|
|
blood, blood ...
|
|
Chandras lowered his knife to the throat of the second man, and
|
|
wondered whether he had the resolve to do this 99 more times ...
|
|
|
|
"He's gone!" said Olmehri, looking at where the guard had been. She
|
|
looked up at Kimmentari, and said, "You wouldn't! You couldn't!"
|
|
"I didn't, cousin. It surprises me, too. Chandras has come to this
|
|
measure by his own decision. You are defeated.
|
|
"But you could still renounce the shard. If you free the essences
|
|
it has trapped, and then give up its power, you could still survive.
|
|
Rest and recuperative magic could restore you to your former health,
|
|
though it is likely that the abilities you have augmented with the
|
|
shard's power would be stripped from you completely. Just say the words,
|
|
cousin. Please?"
|
|
"Never!" Olmehri growled. "And your plan won't work either! I'll
|
|
just send my Minions to destroy this Chandras, to defend the vessels
|
|
..."
|
|
Kimmentari was ready for this. When she had touched the shard on
|
|
her last visit, she had learned what frequency it vibrated at. Now, she
|
|
began to sing at a pitch that resonated in and around that frequency.
|
|
Kimmentari's song penetrated the shard, and only its magical nature
|
|
saved it from being shattered immediately. But the song still had its
|
|
desired effect -- amplified and focused by the shard, Kimmentari's song
|
|
assaulted every one of Olmehri's senses, confusing them, overloading
|
|
them, making sure she stayed occupied enough that she couldn't send the
|
|
command through the stone that would doom Chandras.
|
|
|
|
Thornodd was as shocked as Olmehri when the minion vanished. That
|
|
shouldn't have happened, should it? If waking the original body of a
|
|
Minion made the shadow body disappear, then their task would be easier
|
|
than she had thought.
|
|
But Olmehri's next words seemed to indicate that something more had
|
|
happened. And then Thornodd realized what was happening -- Chandras was
|
|
killing the bodies, not waking them up! Her friends, her fellow raiders,
|
|
innocent townsfolk being executed by that little thief!
|
|
Kimmentari began to sing then, throwing the room into confusion.
|
|
Thornodd realized what Olmehri had said about sending her Minions to
|
|
kill Chandras before he finished his job. It looked like Kimmentari's
|
|
one-note song was keeping Olmehri from following through on her threat:
|
|
if she could send mental commands while writhing and screaming like
|
|
that, she was far stronger than she looked. But the three remaining
|
|
Minions seemed to realize what was required of them, and they turned and
|
|
dashed for the door.
|
|
Thornodd reacted instinctively and tackled two of them while
|
|
tripping a third. Jerek joined in as the Minions struggled to their
|
|
feet, and soon a five-person melee was raging in front of the door. It
|
|
was a terribly unequal match, since none of the cuts that either Jerek
|
|
or she inflicted did any damage whatsoever. The Minions weren't very
|
|
good swordsmen, but they didn't need to be since they couldn't be hurt
|
|
and didn't tire.
|
|
Thornodd was staggering under the heavy blows of the Minions by the
|
|
time the next one vanished with a cry as anguished as the first one's
|
|
had been. She had expected the battle to be a little easier, but the
|
|
remaining Minions fought even harder to get through the door and rescue
|
|
their Mistress before it was too late.
|
|
One kicked Thornodd in the shin at the same time the other slashed
|
|
at her unprotected shoulder. Only the Minion's lack of expertise saved
|
|
Thornodd's arm but the hard blow with the flat of the sword, combined
|
|
with the kick, knocked her off balance. She fell hard, numbing her sword
|
|
arm and when she looked back up she saw the Minion above her swinging
|
|
his sword at her two-handed. She tried to lift her sword to block it,
|
|
but she just couldn't move that arm yet.
|
|
Thornodd was getting ready to greet her dead relatives when the
|
|
Minion shrieked, faded, and vanished. The sword it had been holding flew
|
|
off on a tangent, missing her completely. She closed her eyes for a
|
|
moment, sucked in a deep breath of relief, and thought, 'Guess I'm lucky
|
|
Chandras decided on his more rash approach, or I'd be dead now.'
|
|
A cry from Jerek got Thornodd's attention again, and she saw the
|
|
last Minion dash past her magician friend who was clutching his arm,
|
|
blood oozing through his fingers. She surged to her feet, concern on her
|
|
face, but Jerek said, "I'm okay -- it's not as bad as it looks. We can't
|
|
let that one get away!"
|
|
They followed the Minion out into the hall, but the running figure
|
|
was almost at the stairs. Despairing of being in time, Thornodd started
|
|
after him, but a shouted, "Duck!" made her dodge to the side of the
|
|
hallway. A ball of green light sped past her and struck the Minion just
|
|
as he took his first step down. The ball of light exploded into mist
|
|
that wrapped itself around the Minion and turned into a half-dozen rings
|
|
of green light that immobilized the fleeing man and caused him to fall
|
|
down the steps to the first landing. Thornodd checked on the struggling
|
|
prisoner, who was unhurt by his fall and not going anywhere, before
|
|
returning to Jerek to check on the condition of his arm.
|
|
The slash really wasn't a bad wound, just bloody, and Thornodd
|
|
wrapped it quickly. By the time she was done, the trapped Minion had
|
|
vanished and the rings were lying on the landing and dissolving, their
|
|
green glow fading away.
|
|
She and Jerek returned to Kimmentari's side. Thornodd watched as
|
|
the Shadowstone almost seemed to squirm in its stand, trying to defend
|
|
its controller. The strange grey glow of the stone was visibly dimming
|
|
as the essences it held were freed by Chandras' work. Facet after facet
|
|
went dim, and Thornodd could sense that it wouldn't be much longer now.
|
|
|
|
It didn't get any easier. Chandras had just as hard a time with the
|
|
last slash as he had with the first. There was blood all over the room,
|
|
but he had ceased to notice it. It was simply part of what he was doing
|
|
-- killing innocents in completely cold blood. He was surprised that his
|
|
resolve lasted through every single body in the cavern.
|
|
He had executed Malkhas without even marking the event until he had
|
|
moved onto the next body. A brief salute, a brief thought about Delebye
|
|
and wondering whether she had really been worth all this, and he put it
|
|
behind him. His world focused to the knife and the throats, as he
|
|
systematically moved among the shelves and the bodies.
|
|
And finally, the last body was dead. Somewhere along the way, he
|
|
had thought about and decided how he was going to deal with what he had
|
|
done. He wasn't the heroic type, to be able to put the killing behind
|
|
him in the name of a just cause. He had done what he had to -- he had no
|
|
qualms about that. But he knew he didn't have the stomach to face the
|
|
inevitable nightmares.
|
|
He looked at the last body, a trickle of red running down her neck.
|
|
'Almost finished,' he thought. 'Just one more.' He sat against a wall,
|
|
and said, "And she'll never know what I've done for her." Then, he
|
|
completed his job of executions.
|
|
|
|
Kimmentari went silent when the shard went completely inert. The
|
|
glow was gone, and the rip had shrunk to a very small slit that no
|
|
longer glowed or pulsed. Olmehri slumped on her throne, still stunned
|
|
from Kimmentari's assault.
|
|
Thornodd looked hard at the stone, then turned to Kimmentari. "Is
|
|
it done?" she asked.
|
|
"Yes, except for one last thing. The Shadowstone has been drained,
|
|
but Olmehri is still linked to it. That link must be broken -- when it
|
|
recovers from the assault, it will absorb Olmehri's essence and then it
|
|
will become unstoppable. If you could ..."
|
|
Thornodd caught her meaning, and nodded. Kimmentari turned away,
|
|
but she still heard the sword piercing flesh. Hanging her head for a
|
|
moment, she sighed, and then turned back to the throne. Not looking at
|
|
the body, she removed the shard from its perch and secreted it away
|
|
inside her sleeve.
|
|
"I'll take care of disposing of the stone, Milady Thornodd,"
|
|
Kimmentari said wearily. "You and your Raiders can go your own way now.
|
|
You may wish to take over this compound, even. I would suggest that you
|
|
brick up the passage to the storage chamber where the bodies are, in any
|
|
case. It would make a fine tomb."
|
|
"We will, Lady Kimmentari. And thank you for your assistance here.
|
|
We couldn't have done it without you." Thornodd turned to Jerek, who had
|
|
also reentered the room, and said, "Jerek, why don't you go fetch
|
|
Chandras and tell him it's all over. Though I wish such drastic measures
|
|
had not been necessary, we owe him a great deal and I want to
|
|
congratulate him."
|
|
"Your pardon, Milady Thornodd, but that won't be necessary."
|
|
Jerek and Thornodd turned to her, and Thornodd said, "Why not? Oh,
|
|
he's probably come out on his own. Well, I'd better find him -- he still
|
|
needs to be congratulated."
|
|
"I didn't mean that. I'm sorry, but he rests with the others in the
|
|
chamber."
|
|
"What? Why!? Did a Minion find out what was going on and get to him
|
|
as he was killing the last one?"
|
|
"Chandras took his own life, Milady Thornodd. He did what needed to
|
|
be done, but he couldn't live with it having done it.
|
|
"Think on this: you killed my cousin, with little remorse. I
|
|
understand that -- she caused all of this, and she bore the
|
|
responsibility. But what if it had been you instead of Chandras in the
|
|
storage room? Could you have killed 100 or more seemingly sleeping
|
|
people who had done nothing against you of their own volition? Do you
|
|
then wonder at the path Chandras chose?"
|
|
Both Thornodd and Jerek looked stunned by Kimmentari's questions.
|
|
She walked past them into the corridor, and then into the Merstaln. She
|
|
would store the Shadowstone in one of the wild places, where few ever
|
|
went, and she would set wards that would warn her should someone find it
|
|
and claim it again. She didn't want this to happen yet again ...
|
|
As she contemplated the future, she also contemplated the past. The
|
|
dreams that had lead her here were firmly locked into their places in
|
|
the Dance now, one accomplished successfully, one avoided successfully.
|
|
She had set out from home to see that the right dream came about.
|
|
And she had fully expected that 'right dream' to be the one where the
|
|
innocents were saved. She was glad she hadn't shared that thought with
|
|
anyone, though, since she had been wrong. The innocents had been beyond
|
|
rescue from the moment that her cousin had captured them. If she had
|
|
applied herself to bringing the dream she wanted to reality, instead of
|
|
just guiding events so that the *right* dream became reality, then
|
|
disaster might really have followed. She enjoyed living in the human
|
|
world, but she had to remember not to become too human along the way.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Coup
|
|
by Jon Evans
|
|
<godling@mnsinc.com>
|
|
Sy 1014
|
|
|
|
The six of us gathered in a starlit field, distanced from the
|
|
encampment and casual observers. An uneasy silence had gathered with us.
|
|
No one questioned why we had met. No clarification was necessary. All
|
|
were in agreement as to the identity of the problem. Still, the
|
|
evening's debate had not gone smoothly. Each had argued for a different
|
|
solution. Some had argued more loudly than others. Some merely
|
|
entertained ideas. These were easily allied to the stronger
|
|
personalities in the six. I allied two others to myself, rhetorically. A
|
|
fourth stood alone with her own dark plans. And the fifth and sixth
|
|
greedily strove for the power they perceived dangling in front of them.
|
|
Before these tidings could be drawn to their conclusion, I needed to
|
|
know what were the plans of the dark one. A majority was all that was
|
|
needed.
|
|
"So," I started, "we are in agreement, then."
|
|
"No!" another whispered violently. "We are not in agreement. All
|
|
we've done for the past two bells is argue!"
|
|
"You are the one who has argued, General," I answered. "you and
|
|
your assistant."
|
|
The man next to the general stiffened at this title. "I wield the
|
|
significant military power of my entire family, priest. I 'ally' myself
|
|
to the General ... we assist each other in this matter."
|
|
I nodded. "My apologies, Sir Knight. Still, there are four among us
|
|
that would agree to the same course of action."
|
|
"That is not the case," said the knight. "She," he indicated a
|
|
woman cloaked in a black robe with red borders, "does not agree with you
|
|
at all."
|
|
"On the contrary," she spoke slowly. All eyes turned to her. Her
|
|
voice was strained, escaping from her like a promise of death. "I agree
|
|
with both of you, on two different topics. You, General, and the
|
|
knight," she indicated to the armored individuals, "would kill our
|
|
quarry and continue this endeavor for land and power. While you,
|
|
priest," she pointed to me, "would merely convince our quarry to
|
|
withdraw his efforts." She slowly breathed in the night air, her lungs
|
|
straining with the effort. "I, however, find a happy medium with both of
|
|
you. Our quarry should be killed. But we must not continue in this
|
|
endeavor."
|
|
"It is obvious, as a priestess of Amante," I said, "that you would
|
|
choose to kill our quarry. However, that a priestess of the goddess of
|
|
death does not want ... this endeavor, as you put it, to continue seems
|
|
peculiar."
|
|
She sat motionless. "It rushes man and beast to the final destiny.
|
|
They are not ready for their journey, and Amante rejects them until they
|
|
can be prepared. Death is a natural order, that all of us -- even you,
|
|
priest -- must eventually embrace. But not before our time."
|
|
"And Untar?"
|
|
"Untar has brought his time upon himself."
|
|
|
|
"The war has aged him," Sir Horace thought.
|
|
"What is it, Sir Horace?" Untar asked. "Another god arising in the
|
|
Baranurian ranks, defeating my armies and killing my chief magus?"
|
|
Untar was speaking, of course, of Sir Luthias Connall, Knight
|
|
Captain of the Northern Marche. In the last eight months, Luthias
|
|
Connall had risen from a minor lord to a Count who commanded roughly
|
|
half of the Baranurian armed forces. He had also escaped Beinison's
|
|
prisons, and slain the Emperor's chief magus Mon-Taerleor. Now, however,
|
|
Sir Horace approached his Emperor with a more mundane threat -- yet one
|
|
that could destroy Beinison's already diminishing chances of winning
|
|
this war.
|
|
"Sir Horace?" the Emperor called, jarring Sir Horace from his
|
|
thoughts. "We are not in the habit of repeating ourselves. What is it
|
|
you wished to discuss?"
|
|
"Uh ... yes, your Majesty." Sir Horace replied, noting Untar's use
|
|
of the royal plural. He only did so when aggravated. "My apologies.
|
|
There are two matters which must be addressed, concerning the war."
|
|
"And so you approach us in the late of the evening, when most of
|
|
our advisors are not in attendance? Would these topics not better be
|
|
addressed in Council, with our other military advisors present?"
|
|
"My liege," Sir Horace started, "I believe one of these topics to
|
|
be extremely sensitive ... "
|
|
"And the second?"
|
|
"Had you visitors, I would have had a reason to be here, without
|
|
raising their suspicions."
|
|
"Who's suspicions?"
|
|
"I am not certain, your Majesty. That is why I approach you in the
|
|
privacy of the evening."
|
|
Untar paused a moment. "Speak, councilor."
|
|
"Yes, sire. The first issue I wish to address -- the least of the
|
|
two -- is the morale of the fighting forces. Or, more accurately, the
|
|
honor of our fighting forces. As you know, Sire, there have been
|
|
horrendous acts committed by our men as we further our occupation of
|
|
Magnus. Where Baranur has been driven from its capital, fire has swept
|
|
the streets. Our men are burning and pillaging these sections of the
|
|
city."
|
|
Sir Horace looked into the blank face of his emperor. "Sire, even
|
|
the mercenary divisions are more respectful -- and chivalric -- toward
|
|
this city and its inhabitants."
|
|
"I have been informed," the emperor stated. "The priests of Amante
|
|
and Gow are working together -"
|
|
"Amante and Gow!" Sir Horace exclaimed. "Sire, those two are as
|
|
night and day! Why - " Suddenly, Sir Horace realized he had interrupted
|
|
his emperor. "My apologies, Emperor. Please continue."
|
|
Untar breathed in slowly. "They are working together to quell the
|
|
situation. If that is not good enough for you, Sir Horace, perhaps you
|
|
can suggest a more strategic plan of simultaneously recognizing the
|
|
representatives of two of the most prominent religions."
|
|
"No, your Majesty."
|
|
"Excellent. Now that I have your approval on that topic, what is
|
|
the more sensitive matter that you desire to discuss?"
|
|
"My liege," Sir Horace began hesitantly, "you must understand that
|
|
this morale situation, as well as our recent defeats, has weakened our
|
|
effort to support this war. Of the three most prominent families, you
|
|
have only the undivided support of two. The third sides with you,
|
|
officially, but politically it sways with the winds. It always has."
|
|
"You tell me nothing new, councilor." Untar rested his head on his
|
|
hands. He hoped that this would not be a long, boring dictation on
|
|
situations he already knew. At the same time, he hoped that Sir Horace
|
|
did not suddenly present him with information that would destroy his
|
|
efforts to expand Beinison's territory.
|
|
"My Emperor, I have knowledge that a group of powerful
|
|
representatives are meeting in secret." Untar looked up from his seat.
|
|
"The exact nature of these meetings is unknown to me, but it would seem
|
|
most likely they are planning something other than military maneuvers."
|
|
"Who are these 'representatives', Sir Horace? What do you know
|
|
about them?"
|
|
"Only that they have met privately, to discuss matters of some ...
|
|
secrecy. I know nothing further."
|
|
"And how did you come to learn this knowledge?"
|
|
"I have a spy. I will not say what relationship he plays with this
|
|
group, except that he knows something of their activities."
|
|
"And what did your spy tell you?"
|
|
"Your effort to win this war -- your very life! -- is in danger,
|
|
sire. You must re-think recent events."
|
|
"Are you saying I should abandon the war at this late stage? We are
|
|
besieging the capital city of Baranur, and we have taken and burned
|
|
several sections of the city, as you yourself have been so careful to
|
|
point out just this evening!"
|
|
"Sire, if you'll forgive me -- "
|
|
"How much more can We forgive you, this evening?"
|
|
Sir Horace blushed and caught his breath. "Sire, the sections of
|
|
Magnus under our domain are all part of the section referred to as the
|
|
'Fifth Quarter'. It is the single largest breeding ground for filth,
|
|
poverty, and the criminal element in all of Baranur. We're probably
|
|
doing Baranur a favor by clearing it out and purifying it in fire.
|
|
Haralan might otherwise have hired a fighting force to do just that."
|
|
"And the rest of Magnus?"
|
|
"We have yet to cross the Laraka or enter the other two sections on
|
|
this bank. There is still heavy, sporadic fighting in the Fifth, and the
|
|
bridges that cross the Laraka are heavily defended. We will have to
|
|
devise another means of fording the river."
|
|
"So, you are advising me to retreat from Magnus, now that Baranur
|
|
is feeling our divine grip?"
|
|
"I'm advising you that internal forces are planning to resist your
|
|
advance on Baranur, and that if you don't re-think your political
|
|
actions, you may end up being removed. Your Majesty!"
|
|
"You dare threaten me!" Untar stood on his feet, kicking his seat
|
|
backward with the force. Immediately, a guard stepped out from behind
|
|
Untar's position. He drew his sword and advanced on Sir Horace.
|
|
Sir Horace stepped back a pace. "My Emperor, you have known me for
|
|
some years. You know that I do not threaten you."
|
|
"Your implications, however, threaten my existence on this throne!
|
|
Sir Horace, do you care to reveal the source of your knowledge, or the
|
|
members of this 'secret group' you claim exists?"
|
|
"I cannot, sire."
|
|
"Then I suggest you vacate my pavilion immediately. Do not think to
|
|
suggest my course of action be changed on your word. You are not held
|
|
*that* highly in my court."
|
|
The emperor's guard stepped between Sir Horace and Untar, and
|
|
gestured toward the door. Sir Horace bowed. "Good evening, my Emperor."
|
|
When Sir Horace was gone, Untar looked to his guard. "So, Thieryn
|
|
... what do *you* think of Sir Horace's tale?"
|
|
"Me, my Emperor?"
|
|
"You have been my personal guard for seven years, now. Your family
|
|
has maintained watch on the royal lineage for generations. Surely, if I
|
|
cannot trust your judgment, I can trust no one's. Is that not so?"
|
|
"Your life is my first concern, my Emperor."
|
|
|
|
I looked around at them again. The six of us, all representing
|
|
major powers within the Beinison ruling class, sat in a small group
|
|
several miles from the Emperor's encampment. We were deciding the fate
|
|
of nations. It was a mighty undertaking, full of hundreds of
|
|
unforeseeable consequences. Most people could not contemplate the
|
|
actions we were taking, for fear of losing control. But that is why we
|
|
were the ruling class: we were able to maintain control, even in the
|
|
midst of chaos. And Beinison was in chaos.
|
|
The dark priestess of Amante has made herself known to us,
|
|
rhetorically. She asks questions that steer the others toward the
|
|
answers she desires. They know she plans something; she does not hide
|
|
it. But what? All I wish is the cessation of this bloody war, and a
|
|
return to neutrality, if not outright peace. I feel peace, however, may
|
|
take many years.
|
|
"And so, we are drawn on two issues," the priestess of Amante
|
|
spoke. "The continuation or discontinuation of this war effort, and the
|
|
worth of the Emperor to Beinison's future."
|
|
"I, for one," spoke the Knight of the Star, "equate the Emperor
|
|
with Beinison. He has no heirs. And his sister is not well loved by the
|
|
court." He was referring to a scandal that had removed Beinison's
|
|
princess from the capital city, and forced her into a sort of self-exile
|
|
in the countryside.
|
|
"There are other ruling powers in Beinison, aside from the royal
|
|
family's." This was spoken by the nobleman.
|
|
"Such as?" I asked.
|
|
"Such as his own," offered the Amantean priestess.
|
|
"Yes, you Amantean witch! Such as my own. But there are several
|
|
others, and I feel confident that among the forces gathered here this
|
|
evening, we can work out a temporary hierarchy until a situation that
|
|
satisfies us all can be arranged."
|
|
"An interesting concept," offered the priestess. "And one which
|
|
might well pit the religions against each other, giving more power and
|
|
stability to the nobility. I do not relish a religious war with the
|
|
priests of Gow, or the priestesses of Alana."
|
|
"Nor do they wish one with you," I offered. There were several
|
|
chuckles. The followers of Amante were more assassins and thieves than
|
|
commoners. Their religious order practiced sacrificial rites and
|
|
self-inflicted pain, and harnessed the darkest of energies. On an open
|
|
field, Gow's warriors could annihilate the warriors of Amante. But it
|
|
would not be a war fought on open fields. It would be fought in secrecy,
|
|
under cover of night, with poisons and curses.
|
|
"There is yet another concern," spoke one of my allies. "Sir
|
|
Horace, a Knight of the Star."
|
|
"What of Sir Horace?" asked my other ally, a nobleman.
|
|
"He knows about these meetings," the first replied.
|
|
"Of course he knows," the nobleman spoke. "He is the highest
|
|
representative of my household, outside of Beinison. He was to be the
|
|
representative of our family. I am acting in his stead."
|
|
"And you have told him of our plans?" I asked. "You have told him
|
|
that Untar's life hangs in the balance?"
|
|
The nobleman stood up, nearly shouting his defense. "I *report* to
|
|
Sir Horace. He must know what occurs in these meetings. Only then can I
|
|
act out his will."
|
|
"You have been foolish," the Amantean witch stated. "Horace's
|
|
loyalties have always placed the royal line before Beinison."
|
|
"The royal line *is* Beinison, bitch!" Hissed the nobleman. "Untar
|
|
is the last of his line; his life must be preserved. The military has
|
|
the power -- "
|
|
"The military," I spoke, "has had all but the very worst luck, in
|
|
recent months, Sir. That issue is not to be debated, at this time.
|
|
Presently, the six of us are in conflict. There is no cessation from
|
|
either side. But involving Sir Horace has been a mistake."
|
|
"One that must be dealt with," the dark priestess spoke.
|
|
"He is my lord," protested the nobleman. "I cannot --"
|
|
"You have little choice." This was the General, speaking at last.
|
|
"Horace is an excellent knight, and your leader ... here. But your true
|
|
fealty lies to your family, in Beinison, and Horace threatens their
|
|
existence by making our presence known to Untar. He must be dealt with."
|
|
"But how?" my ally spoke. "He is still well loved by the emperor.
|
|
No challenge to his honor would even be believed."
|
|
"I shall arrange it," spoke the Amantean priestess.
|
|
The Knight of the Star and the General rose simultaneously, placing
|
|
their hands on their swords. The Knight spoke. "No assassin is going to
|
|
stab Sir Horace in the back, witch. Your blood will spill before his."
|
|
The Amantean priestess smiled, the wrinkles splitting face into a
|
|
thousand pieces. A pleasant appearance came upon her, and it frightened
|
|
me. It frightened all of us. We could hardly imagine what pleased her.
|
|
"Untar himself will give the order for Horace's execution."
|
|
|
|
"You have summoned me, my emperor?" Sir Horace asked. Untar sat in
|
|
his pavilion, on a temporary throne, his personal guardsmen in
|
|
attendance. Untar's royal cloak hung from tired shoulders, and his eyes
|
|
stared forward with determination. Again, Horace realized how much older
|
|
Untar had become. He looked, now, like an emperor -- no more the youth
|
|
Horace had known.
|
|
Untar's gaze focused on Horace. "Tell me about your secret group,
|
|
Sir Horace. I have reason to believe what you say is, at least,
|
|
partially true."
|
|
"I can say no more than I have already told you, my emperor. I am
|
|
unaware of the exact participants within the circle. I could only
|
|
guess."
|
|
"I do not want guesses from you, Horace." Untar stood up. "I want
|
|
the truth! You enter my pavilion, approaching me in secrecy, and attempt
|
|
to dissuade me from my assault on Magnus. Why?"
|
|
Horace stood silent; shocked.
|
|
"Then you inform me of a secret group, who decides my very fate.
|
|
Why?"
|
|
"My emperor, I -- "
|
|
"THEN! Then you tell me that we are being ineffectual against
|
|
Baranur! Why?"
|
|
"I -- "
|
|
"SILENCE!!" Untar approached him. Horace looked around himself,
|
|
alone in the room with the Emperor and all ten of the Royal Guard. Untar
|
|
never kept all of his guards with him at once. This was an inquisition,
|
|
Horace thought, albeit a benign one.
|
|
"Tell me one thing, Horace," Untar pleaded. "You have been
|
|
well-loved in the court. I have found evidence that you plot against me.
|
|
It is difficult to believe. Prove your loyalty to me. Who is in the
|
|
group?"
|
|
Horace was stunned. "Emperor, I have never --"
|
|
Untar whirled suddenly, slamming the back of his fist against
|
|
Horace's jaw. "Do not insult me again! Thieryn, bring the other
|
|
prisoner." Untar's personal guard signaled, and a body, heavily bloodied
|
|
at the mouth, was dragged into the room.
|
|
"I have, as you can see, your protege, Sir Rosgood. His tongue has
|
|
been removed. Heavy interrogation by Thieryn has determined that you
|
|
were the principal element in leading your secret group towards your own
|
|
secret ends, and the ends of your household. It is sad that his fealty
|
|
to his own household crumbled in the last instant. Before he drowned in
|
|
his own blood, he indicated your activity in the group, and lead us to
|
|
these papers."
|
|
Untar walked to his throne and picked up a parchment with Horace's
|
|
family crest. It was a parchment sent to Horace, requesting that he meet
|
|
with the six members of the secret group.
|
|
"Emperor, that document only requests that I meet with the group.
|
|
It indicates nothing else. I did not even attend those meetings! I sent
|
|
Rosgood in my stead!"
|
|
"And so, your lies meet an end," Untar said. Untar looked sad,
|
|
worn, and at the edge of tears. Horace, with his very life suddenly
|
|
depending on the outcome of this audience, still felt pity for Untar. He
|
|
loved his emperor.
|
|
"This document," Untar continued, "indicates a secret treaty that
|
|
your family has initiated with Haralan, King of Baranur. It further
|
|
gives you authority to grant special dispensations to the other members
|
|
of your group, should they be convinced to pledge fealty to your family.
|
|
YOUR family!" Untar slapped the scroll across Horace's face. "What have
|
|
you to say in your defense?"
|
|
Sir Horace was speechless. The document never stated anything of
|
|
the kind, he thought. It only requested his presence.
|
|
And Rosgood ... Gow, Rosgood had been his closest advisor. Untar
|
|
knew this.
|
|
"There is nothing I can say, my emperor. I am innocent. I request a
|
|
trial by my peers --"
|
|
"You request nothing," Untar began. "This is treason on the highest
|
|
level. We are in enemy territory, in the midst of war. And you plot
|
|
against me.
|
|
"Thieryn!" Untar called. "Take him away. We want his head on a
|
|
pike, in the middle of camp, and his body hanging from the tallest tree.
|
|
Let us show his compatriots what happens to those that plot against our
|
|
divine will!"
|
|
|
|
We met again, for the last time. This time, however, there were
|
|
only five. We all had questions to ask her. Why Rosgood? Why implicate
|
|
one of our own? But we knew the answer. She had decided it was safest
|
|
for the rest of us, and had acted as she saw fit. We could not question
|
|
her. We had had little to do with it. But I would still attempt to sway
|
|
her from Untar's death, or block her ability to order it.
|
|
"In light of recent events," I began, "we are without our Sir
|
|
Rosgood, a nobleman and leader. However, I feel his family should still
|
|
have representation. Therefore, I suggest we honor his family by
|
|
requesting they appoint a new representative."
|
|
As I looked to the faces in the group, I knew they would all
|
|
support me. No one felt comfortable with the dark priestess' plan to
|
|
remove Rosgood. He was not part of the deal. I stared at her. She met my
|
|
gaze calmly.
|
|
"I agree," she said. "However, since Untar is certain to begin
|
|
moving his reserve troops against Rosgood's household, it is unlikely
|
|
that they will send another representative."
|
|
"But they must be represented," I said, "or this council is
|
|
invalid."
|
|
"Then I suggest we request the advice of the highest ranking
|
|
official of their bloodline that is present at this war front," Amante's
|
|
daughter spoke.
|
|
I agreed. We all did.
|
|
"Then we shall reconvene tomorrow night?" I offered.
|
|
"No," she stated. "Our meetings have drawn to an end. We must act
|
|
upon our majority rule."
|
|
The General spoke. "But we must find the representative --"
|
|
Once again, she smiled. It was all she needed to halt his speech.
|
|
"I am that family's highest ranking official. Horace was my brother."
|
|
We all stared. I was dumbfounded. I had attempted to circumvent her
|
|
plans, but had given her the key. And then I knew why she had removed
|
|
Rosgood from our circle. Now she held two votes.
|
|
"Then our mission is complete. Rosgood opposed your desire to
|
|
remove Untar."
|
|
"That was the issue in conflict. And now this council is no longer
|
|
divided. We can act." Peacefulness rested on her shoulders.
|
|
"I protest!" shouted one of my allies, Thieryn. "Untar's life is my
|
|
charge!"
|
|
"And yours shall be the sword that ends it," she answered. There
|
|
was nothing we could do. Our council had met to decide the fate of a
|
|
nation, and we had done so. "Untar has brought his fate upon himself."
|
|
|
|
Untar parted the tent flap that led into his private chambers,
|
|
followed closely by his personal guard, Thieryn. He had dismissed the
|
|
others, wishing to be alone in his thoughts, but Thieryn had refused to
|
|
leave him. In light of recent events, the Emperor of Beinison must not
|
|
be left alone -- and could not gain the privacy he desired. He sat in a
|
|
chair, facing the only remaining friend he had.
|
|
"Sir Horace denied the pamphlet's contents, Thieryn. And I killed
|
|
him. No trial. He's dead."
|
|
Thieryn's face was stone like in its lack of movement. His lips
|
|
parted slightly. "We had evidence of his treason, my Emperor."
|
|
"Couldn't it have been a forgery?" Untar's eyes were red, fighting
|
|
back the tears that came with his loss. His voice cracked, slightly, and
|
|
Thieryn realized his Emperor, with all his power, was still only
|
|
seventeen years old.
|
|
"This war has made me mad," Untar said. "Killing the people I would
|
|
rather be ruling ... how am I ever to trust these people? How could I
|
|
know they loved me as their Emperor? What good is it to rule over people
|
|
who would rather have another in your place? Would they not rise against
|
|
me? Challenge my divine right as Emperor, and put a false king in my
|
|
place? Were I killed and Beinison placed in Haralan's hands, would you
|
|
follow him so loyally as you do me?
|
|
"This has gone on too long," Untar continued. "I am too tired of
|
|
this battle. Thieryn, what if I've just condemned an innocent man? Set
|
|
this man's head upon a pike, as a testament to what happens to loyal
|
|
subjects? He was one of my strongest supporters, and wisest advisors --
|
|
but the pamphlet was so public! Thieryn, when you arrested Rosgood so
|
|
publicly, you tied my hands. I had to show that I am a strong ruler. But
|
|
did I have to kill him? I became so angry with him -- and now I have
|
|
failed a man that believed in me. I have killed a loyal subject.
|
|
"I am not a great ruler, Thieryn. I am nothing. I do not deserve to
|
|
live. Horace tried to warn me -- I am wasting lives, here, and
|
|
accomplishing nothing. All my friends are gone -- Horace, Mon-Taerleor
|
|
-- I am so alone. Except for you, Thieryn. I have caused so many
|
|
problems, cost so many lives ... for what? And how can I repair that
|
|
which I have broken?
|
|
"I no longer want Baranur. This cold, desolate, barren land, not at
|
|
all the like the beautiful mountains of Beinison, the long sloping
|
|
planes of the Central Region, the warm waters off the western coast.
|
|
Nothing but cold. With cold-hearted subjects that would attempt to
|
|
assassinate me at every turn."
|
|
Untar looked up at Thieryn. "But I cannot go home, can I, my
|
|
friend? How do I tell the ruling families that the thousands of lives
|
|
I've cost them were for nothing? Their sons, daughters, subjects, dead
|
|
at my hands and nothing to show for it! I must die here, in Baranur,
|
|
alone except for you."
|
|
Suddenly, Untar looked brightly up at Thieryn, the tears running
|
|
down his face glinting in the torch light of his tent. A spark of hope
|
|
glinted in his eyes, and something akin to madness.
|
|
"Yes! That's it! There is no other course! I must die. It must be
|
|
here. And now! Thieryn, you must leave me. I have to be alone."
|
|
Thieryn stood in shock. He had been sent to kill his emperor, but
|
|
now Untar wanted to commit suicide. Untar's family line would be
|
|
disgraced. But it would save Thieryn the responsibility of killing him.
|
|
Killing a man he had sworn to protect, whose life he had guarded for
|
|
over ten years. But if he let his emperor commit this act, then it were
|
|
as if he had struck the knife to Untar's chest with his own hands.
|
|
"No, my emperor, you must not!" Thieryn stepped forward, grabbing
|
|
Untar's shoulders and turning him to face Thieryn. "Yours is a proud
|
|
line, full of noble emperors generations in the counting. Your father
|
|
conquered two kingdoms and took them into Beinison, and now the nobles
|
|
are your loyal subjects. Your grandfather defeated the Lederian
|
|
Invasion, pushing back their forces and claiming half their own lands.
|
|
You shall be as victorious, one day!"
|
|
Untar looked at him, confused. "But ... I have failed. I have
|
|
nothing. The other families -- "
|
|
"The other families can say nothing. You have taken two full
|
|
duchies with this army ... Taken them from the largest force Beinison
|
|
has ever faced. You have personally lead glorious battles! You could
|
|
order the troops to fall back to Duchy Pyridain, fortify our holdings,
|
|
and prepare another assault for the coming year. In a few months,
|
|
Haralan will have no choice but to treatise with you to spare his very
|
|
life!"
|
|
Untar stood up. "You are right, Thieryn." He moved out of Thieryn's
|
|
grasp and turned his back to wipe his eyes. "You are correct. I have
|
|
nothing to fear from the other nobles. I am the emperor! They will
|
|
listen to us! *We* are Beinison!"
|
|
Thieryn noticed Untar's usage of the royal plural. He smiled, even
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as a tear fell down his cheek and he silently drew his sword from his
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belt. He could not let his emperor die like a cowering, weak, terrified
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child. But an emperor, standing tall, confident in his power ... that
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was how his emperor should be remembered.
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A quick thrust. Torn fabric. No groan from his emperor. No sound of
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pain. Just a little bit of liquid soaking into the ground.
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========================================================================
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Screams of War
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by Mark A. Murray
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<mmurray@weir.net>
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Magnus, Sy 1014
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The screams were the worst. Wynni ran down an alley trying to put
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the screaming behind her, but she kept running closer to it. It seemed
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to come from everywhere. The screaming echoed off the walls. It came
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from the people who ran around her. The night sky was lit from the fires
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and the whole city seemed to glow. A dark cloud hovered above it all; a
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dark cloud of black smoke that covered the sky and reflected the burning
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back upon Magnus. The fires hadn't worked their way to her, yet. For
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this, she was glad. She also had managed to avoid most of the Beinison
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invaders. If she could just find a way out ...
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"They shouldn't be here!" her mind screamed as she turned a corner
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and saw soldiers. "This is Magnus. We're not supposed to be invaded."
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She turned around and ran down another street. Waves of heat assaulted
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her and she had to run down a side alley to escape the flames.
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"Sweet Stevene, help me," Wynni cried softly as she ran. "If you
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help me out of this, I'll never sell myself again. Please, Stevene!" she
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pleaded. Wynni heard soldiers behind her and she quickly turned down
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another alley. As she turned the corner, blood splattered her face and
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body.
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"Augh!" she yelled as she wiped the blood from her face. Her
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movements were jerky and erratic as she tried to get all the blood off
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of her. When she opened her eyes, she saw a small battle in front of
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her. "Go away!" she screamed in her mind. "Go away!"
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As she backed into the alley wall, she watched in horror as men cut
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and slashed each other. With each wound, a part of her seemed to die.
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Swords whistled and clanged. She heard a soft fleshy thunk as a mace was
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buried in a man's stomach. She didn't hear the screams until she saw an
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arm severed from someone. Blood spurted everywhere. The man who had
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swung the sword was covered in it. She saw several men on the ground
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clutching different parts of their bodies and screaming in agony. A man
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slipped in the blood and before he could get up another man stabbed him
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from behind. The stabbed man turned and she saw recognition in both of
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the men's eyes. She thought she heard the standing man say he was sorry,
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but couldn't be sure because a sword took his head.
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"Stop it!" she screamed aloud. Nobody heard her. "Oh, Stevene,
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please stop it," she cried. The battle raged fiercer as new men joined
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the fray. She turned and threw up. The screams echoed in her head as her
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stomach emptied what contents it had held. "Go away!" she screamed to
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the screaming. Looking back at the battle, she saw a man coming toward
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her. She turned and ran down an alley. As she turned the corner into
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another alley, she ran into a warrior.
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"Let me go!" she yelled as she tried to pull away.
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"What have we got here?" the mercenary asked. "Looks like you've
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seen some fighting." He held her arm tightly.
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"Let me go. You're hurting me!" she told him.
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"Looks like a pretty thing, doesn't it?" he said as he wiped more
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blood from her face. "Hold her still," he told his companion. The other
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man grabbed her upper arms and held her tightly.
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"I've got her, Arvid," he said. Arvid let go of her arm and grabbed
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her shirt.
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"Let's see what we've got here," he said as he started to undo it.
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Wynni squirmed but it only caused her shirt to rip. Arvid smiled.
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"The building behind you looks empty, Arvid," the man holding her
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said. Arvid turned and looked in the open doorway. He stepped in for a
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moment and when he came back out, he grabbed Wynni and pulled her
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inside.
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"Please let me go," she pleaded.
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"Do what you're told," Arvid said.
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"No, no --" she started to cry but stopped as Arvid slapped her.
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"You gonna take the rest of them clothes off or do I have to slap
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you again?" he said.
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"Please," she cried. Arvid slapped her again. Wynni fell to the
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floor and Arvid stood over her. When he moved to undo her pants, she
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kicked at him but he dodged it easily.
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"Hold her, Burke," he told his companion. "She's a slow one." As
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Burke held her, Arvid used his knife to cut her pants. He didn't care
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this time and left many long narrow slices in her legs.
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"Stevene!" she cried out.
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"He's burning with the rest of them," Arvid told her as he undid
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his pants. She screamed until her voice gave out.
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They had left her alive. "It was just another paying man on a
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regular night," she told herself, but it didn't help the pain go away.
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She was on the floor and her body shivered. As she tried to stand, the
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physical pain of the rape and the many cuts in her legs caused her to
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lay back down. She curled up into a tight ball and tried to make it go
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away. She wanted to die, but instead from somewhere in the night, she
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heard the screaming again. "Why, Stevene, why?" she asked softly into
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the night. She cried as the city died.
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"I'm sorry," came a voice inside the room. She jerked and looked
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around, but didn't see anything.
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"Who's there?" she asked.
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"I came too late," the boy said as he emerged from his hiding
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place. "I didn't have a weapon and I wouldn't know how to use it if I
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did," he said. "There was too many of them. I'm sorry."
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"Who are you?" she asked as she tried to cover herself with her
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torn clothes. When the boy came closer, she saw that he was older -- he
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was a young man. His beard was just coming in and he had the start of a
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mustache. His brown hair was cut short and he wore a priest's robe.
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"I'm Ammon. My dad was a baker. He's dead. So's mom," he told her.
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"I have a robe if you want it. It's a priest's robe and it's got blood
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on it, but what doesn't now?"
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"Thank you," she said taking the robe.
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"We should go. I think the fire's coming this way."
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She stood and pain lanced through her. She stumbled and he caught
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her arm. She looked at him and saw tears in his eyes. "So much pain,"
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she thought. "When will it end?"
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"Soon," he answered. She was too lost in her pain to notice his
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unusual answer.
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They left the room and went into the alley. The city was brightly
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lit. As they walked in a direction that was away from the worst of the
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fire, they saw bodies lying everywhere. She tried not to look at them,
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but it was impossible not to. Some were burned and blackened while
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others were twisted at odd angles. And the screaming continued.
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"I had a friend once," Ammon said. "He was the best friend that
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I've ever had. He was a teacher and I was an arrogant kid when he found
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me. He taught me many things." Ammon stopped as they hid in a darkened
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alley and waited for the soldiers to go by. After some moments, he
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deemed it safe enough and they continued on in silence.
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There were many times that they had to hide or run, but it seemed
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to Wynni that it was different. With Ammon next to her, the way was
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easier and the screaming seemed distant.
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"I don't have any friends," Wynni said. "Just close strangers."
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"I did a lot of things that I shouldn't have. Until my friend found
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me. After that, life wasn't the same." Ammon stopped again, but this
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time it wasn't because of soldiers. Wynni could tell that something was
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bothering him.
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"What's wrong?" she asked.
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"He was killed," Ammon answered. "Sometimes, I wonder what would
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have happened if I had been with him ..."
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"This war hurts us all," she said trying to ease his pain. She
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didn't think that he could have helped his friend. After all, he wasn't
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able to help her. Ammon looked at her then and smiled. She started to
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say something, but they had reached the river.
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"We should be safe here," Ammon said as they crawled under a
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bridge. Ammon curled up to her as they settled in their hiding place. He
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was warm and soft. Wynni put her arms around him and held him tight. As
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she drifted to sleep, she wondered where the screaming went.
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"You there!" someone shouted. Wynni jerked awake and saw several
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soldiers standing near her.
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"Think she's Beinison?" said a soldier.
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"Get her across the river and question her," the leader ordered.
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"Make sure she's not."
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"Ammon, we're safe," she whispered, but when she turned to where he
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had been, he was gone.
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"Looks like she's been in the worst of it. No rough handling with
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this one, though. Understand?" the leader asked.
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"Ammon?" she asked again as the soldiers led her to safety.
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"Did you say 'Ammon'?" the leader asked her.
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"Yes," Wynni answered. "He helped me out of the city."
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"How many does this make, Cap'n?" a soldier asked.
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"Nine," the leader said. "You're the ninth person to have been
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helped by this 'Ammon'. Nine we know of, that is."
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"Blessed Stevene!" a soldier said and the words shocked her.
|
|
"Stevene," the soldier continued, "had many disciples. One of them was
|
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named Ammon. Ammon wasn't there when Cephas Stevene was killed. He came
|
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days later and was murdered for proclaiming to be a disciple of Cephas.
|
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He was too late to save his friend. Maybe he's trying to make up for
|
|
that?"
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"Stevene," she thought. "He had said his best friend was a teacher
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who had changed his life. His friend was killed when he wasn't there.
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His friend had to be Cephas Stevene!"
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"Ammon?" she asked the silent air around her.
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========================================================================
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