Wrath Of A Mad God Part 12

He took a deep breath and suddenly realized he was without weapons. Knowing he wouldn't be without company for long, he forded the river. On the other side he stood for a moment, listening, then called, 'I know you're there.'

Seconds later two elves appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. 'Welcome, Jim Dasher,' said one of them.

Jim took a moment in the gloom, then smiled and stepped forward. 'Thank you, Trelan. It is good to see you again.' They gripped one another's hand, and Jim said, 'I need speak with your Queen and Lord Tomas.'

To the other elf, the one called Trelan said, 'I will guide him and send back another to watch the ford with you.' Then he was off at a quick trot, leaving Dasher only a moment in which to react and catch up with him.

Jim knew from his previous visit that he was going to be running all night and most of the morning to reach the Queen's court from this part of the Elven Forest, so he let his mind relax and started thinking about keeping up with the indefatigable elf. He had only been on the trail for five minutes when he started thinking of Michele again, and cursed himself for a love-struck fool.

CHAPTER TEN - Summons.

BEK STOOD COVERED IN BLOOD.

'Stop!' shouted Martuch, his mentor within the Sadharin battle society.

The human disguised as a Dasati Deathknight stood quivering with rage, his eyes wide and his sword poised as he sought out another enemy to kill. Martuch, Valko and half a dozen other members of the White stood in a semi-circle behind Ralan Bek, each of them also awash in gore. The Deathknights, who secretly served the enemies of the Dark One, had been swept up in the Great Culling as had every other Dasati with a sword, but no one, not even the most seasoned warrior had seen anything like what they had just witnessed.

A company of perhaps thirty-five young Deathknights had ridden down a boulevard and happened upon an enclave of Lessers who had gone to ground and risked coming out at sundown too early. As the cityscape was bathed in the orange glow of sunset, the broad street became a scene of carnage.

Before Martuch could order his group to circle away from the conflict, Bek had urged his varnin forward, riding as if he had been in the saddle all his life. Before the young Deathknights had known he was upon them, six were dead. He moved like a being possessed, killing eight before the others could join in.

'They're all dead,' said Martuch.

Bek's eyes burned with an inner light that frightened even this battle-hardened Dasati. 'Let's find more!'

'No,' said Valko. 'The Culling is over.' He looked at the fifteen bodies that littered the street. 'These... shouldn't have died.' He looked torn between his Dasati heritage which relished the slaughter and his newfound respect for life which counted it a waste of potential. 'The Culling was over before this began.'

Martuch looked towards the others. 'Loot the bodies. Not to do so would draw unwelcome attention to us. Better to be thought brigands than heretics.'

Valko's group quickly stripped the bodies of trophies, leaving the corpses in the street for the Lessers to dispose of. As they were securing their trophies behind the saddles of their varnin, a band of riders rounded a corner a long city block away and approached. Valko's company took up position without being ordered, for while the Culling might officially be over, Bek would hardly be the only warrior caught up in the bloodletting and ready to continue killing.

As the group approached, Martuch said, 'Lower your weapons.'

The riders approaching were half a dozen temple Deathknights wearing the TeKarana's palace colours. They were escorting a pair of Hierophants, those priests given the responsibility of ensuring that everyone in the realm came to worship the Dark One. In antiquity they might have been spreaders of the word, but since His Darkness's rise to pre-eminence, no evangelical mission was required, and now they primarily served to ferret out heresy and act as spies for the TeKarana.

'Praise to His Darkness!' said the leader.

All bowed their heads for a moment and repeated the invocation. The other priest quickly took stock of the corpses on the ground. 'How many of your company lies here?'

Martuch spoke calmly. 'None.'

'Indeed?' questioned the first priest. 'I count thirty-five dead warriors and half-again as many Lessers, yet only nine of you sent them all to His Darkness?'

Valko said, 'We had the advantage of surprise.'

Without a hint of boastfulness, Bek calmly said, 'I killed six before they knew we were upon them. When they turned to face me, two more died and then my companions were upon them from another quarter. Confusion served us-'

'And these were young, barely blooded warriors,' added Hirea. 'I am Master Hirea of the Scourge, and I have taught everyone here, including Lord Valko, of the Camareen. These are my most exceptional students, and these... things things,' he said with contempt of the dead, 'were barely better than Lessers themselves. It was an easy killing. Little glory, really'

'You are of the Scourge, yet you ride with the Lord of the Camareen, who is of the Sadharin if I am correct. Is this right?' asked the first priest.

'I was staying with Lord Valko when the call for the Culling came. It seemed prudent to remain with his company rather than risk returning to my own enclave.'

Looking directly at the young ruler of the Camareen, the second priest said, 'And you let him live?'

'He was my teacher,' said Valko. 'The Scourge and the Sadharin have ridden together for many years; we have not crossed swords since my grandfather's times. We have many ties.' His tone said he was finished with the topic and his defiant glare challenged the two priests to continue this line of questioning at their peril.

The politics of the societies were traditionally ignored by the Dark One's priests, but overlong alliances were often viewed with suspicion, for the art of ruling such a murderous population was in keeping factions from growing too powerful. The two priests knew as well as anyone who the potential threats to order were, and while the Scourge and the Sadharin were both venerable societies, they were not especially powerful or influential, especially on Omadrabar. They might be a power to contend with on Kosridi, but here on the capital world of the Dasati Empire, they were just another pair of provincial battle societies.

The second priest studied Bek. 'Are you Scourge or Sadharin?'

Bek glanced down and realized that the badge given to him by Martuch had been dislodged during the struggle. As he started to answer, Martuch said, 'He is my retainer. He is Sadharin.'

The first priest raised his eyebrows and his expression became one of interest. 'A student? From his demeanour and the numbers of dead at his feet I would have thought him at least a master in your ranks, if not a captain.'

'He has promise,' said Hirea dismissively. 'But among those I tutor, he is but another student.'

After a long moment of consideration, the first priest said, 'Then you will not mind if he leaves your side.' Pointing at Ralan he said, 'What are you named?'

'I am Bek,' said the human disguised as a Dasati warrior.

'Bek,' intoned the Hierophant, 'you are called!'

For the briefest second Valko and Martuch exchanged glances. Both felt the instinct to attack, to prevent the Dark One's servants from taking Bek away, but they also both knew that despite not being as powerful in their use of magic as the Deathpriests, these two Hierophants alone could tip the balance against Valko's group.

Martuch said, 'You must go with them.' Softly, so that only Bek could hear him, he added, 'Do nothing to reveal yourself. We will contact you before the end of this day. Go.'

Bek sheathed his sword and said to the priest, 'Called?'

'The TeKarana always needs prodigious warriors. The training is arduous and far more taxing than what you have endured at the hands of your old teacher-' he stressed the word 'old' in a way that would have got him killed had he not been protected by another magic-user and a dozen temple guards '-and should you survive, you will earn a place attending the Dark One's most loyal servant, his personal guard.'

'Should you achieve special merit,' said the other priest, 'you may be chosen to join his most n.o.ble order, the Talnoy.'

Bek grinned. 'Is there killing to be done?'

'Always,' answered the first priest with a grin to match Bek's. 'Today's Culling was just a taste. A banquet of death will soon be laid before the faithful.'

'Then I will come with you,' said the blood-drenched youth.

He mounted his varnin and wheeled around, falling in with the guards who followed the priests.

As they rode down the boulevard and the first stirrings of normal life returned to this part of the city, Valko said to Martuch, 'What do we do now?'

'Get to the Orchard of Delmat-Ama as quickly as we can, and speak to the Gardener,' answered Martuch. To the others he shouted, 'We ride!'

They mounted up quickly and moved at a fast pace through a city littered with the dead and dying.

The greetings were subdued. On both sides there were too many questions that needed to be asked and answered for any casual discussion.

The shelter was as Macros had described it, ample but simple. Cots were arrayed along the walls of a long room, perhaps once an underground grain storage warehouse, or even a barracks of sorts, but other than beds, a table and a stack of water jugs at the far end, the room was devoid of comfort. Two lanterns gave out a low light allowing Pug's vision to register heat once more as if it were something normally seen.

Martuch, Valko and Hirea had all joined Macros and his companions in the hiding place, while the other servants of the White stayed above to ensure that no one below was disturbed. Nakor especially seemed troubled by the news that Bek had been taken by the Hierophants. 'Why do you think he was taken?' he asked Martuch.

Martuch shrugged, one of the few very human gestures that always startled Pug when he saw it. 'For any number of reasons, but none which lead me to think they have an inkling of his real nature; had that been the ease, there would not have been two clerics, but twenty, not a dozen guards, but a hundred. And there would have been no conversation.'

'They would have attacked without question,' agreed Nakor. 'Then, of those possible reasons, which do you judge to be the most reasonable?'

'Reasonable?' Again the old Dasati warrior looked very human in his expression of doubt. 'There is almost nothing left of reason in our land, Nakor. But if you ask me the most likely, it is this: Bek has grown in power since he has been here. It is no longer simply a case of him resembling a powerful young warrior.'

'Martuch is right,' Valko added. 'He exudes might. He carries himself like a n.o.bleman born, the son of some great house, and his strength is apparent. The day I met you I would not have hesitated to cut him down where he stood had I a cause. Today, even the mightiest of our race would hesitate before challenging him. He is not just playing the part of a Dasati any more. He is is Dasati to his core. It is daunting.' Dasati to his core. It is daunting.'

Hirea said, 'If he were in truth my student, I would already judge him the most dangerous I had ever instructed. If I had him on the training floor, I would fear for my head.'

'Then I must go to him,' said Nakor. 'You have means?'

Martuch nodded. 'We have agents in the palace, and I know others there as well who will not think it strange that I am there. As his mentor I can bid him farewell.'

'And I, as his instructor,' added Hirea. 'But once he enters training for the TeKarana's personal guard, he will be unreachable. If we are to speak with him, it must be today'

Nakor nodded and stood up. 'Then we must go now. For if I do not reach him and, tell him what to do, all our plans may come to naught.'

'Nakor looks the part of a Lesser,' said Pug.

'A family retainer, who comes to fetch and carry, nothing more,' answered Martuch. 'He will attract far less attention than if a third warrior appeared to bid farewell to a mere student.'

Valko said to Pug, 'I will accompany you to the Mountains of Skellar-tok.'

Pug glanced at Macros, who merely nodded. 'Sooner is better than later,' said the former human magician. He really did not look well.

As if aware of Pug's regard, he said, 'I fear I may have only a short time left.'

Hirea was visibly distressed to hear that. 'For the service we've shared and the love I bear you as my leader, I caution you never to repeat such a thing outside this room. It is taking all my will not to cut you down for showing such weakness.'

Valko was also showing signs of conflict. 'Yes, that is sage advice.'

Only Martuch seemed untroubled. 'It is too deeply in our blood, I fear. Yet I still hope we can save our progeny.'

'Then we must all be on our way,' said Pug. To Magnus he said, 'Again, you bear the burden, while I will mask us from sight. But this time we shall not merely traverse a city, but go half-way around the world, so be prepared, my son.' Magnus nodded solemnly.

Macros said, 'I shall work to keep us hidden from sight, but indeed we have a long way to go. It will not be a quick journey. I just hope we can gain the knowledge we need before the Dark One makes his intentions clear.'

'Then we must not linger,' said Pug, To Nakor he added, 'I hope to see you again, soon, old friend.'

Grinning through his mask of troubles, Nakor said, 'If the G.o.ds will it, then it will happen. Be well.'

'And you,' said Pug. He turned to Martuch. 'Go first, and we shall follow quickly behind you, but out of sight.'

Martuch nodded, and turned without further discussion, leading his companions up the wooden stairs to the surface. Pug thought to warn Valko not to be unnerved by the lack of visibility or the flying, but thought better of it. He was Dasati and if he was frightened to death he would not show such weakness, and Pug didn't have time to deal with a young lord of the Dasati who felt insulted. All he said was, 'Put your hand upon Magnus's waist and do not let go, for you will not see him.' Then Pug turned everyone in his party invisible.

They slowly made their way up the stairs after Hirea, and the Lessers remaining below to shut the trapdoor. The morning sun now climbed to the mid-heaven, and Pug felt Magnus's spell lift them all quickly upwards. Magnus's voice could be heard, 'Which way?'

'First to the west, for many hours, then when we pause to rest, I will tell you the next direction,' said Macros. 'We shall see half this world before we are done. Now, conserve your strength and let us be away as quickly as you can manage.'

Magnus turned his full will to moving them as fast as he possibly could, and soon they were speeding across the skies of Omadrabar as fast as the swiftest hawk back home. Even so, Pug knew it would be a long and arduous journey, and one he hoped was over in time to forestall whatever evil was being plotted in a deep cavern not too distant from where they flew.

Not for the first time he wondered if there was even a shred of sanity in his choices, for he could not even properly call what he had done so far a plan. Rather it was a frantic attempt to respond to a horrific threat and he had to rely on his own wits, the talents of his son and Nakor, and a very disturbing young man possessed by far more than mere madness. And a series of cryptic notes from some future version of himself. Pug kept his attention fixed on maintaining their invisibility, but part of him wished he could pray. But in this alien sky, he wondered to whom should he be praying.

Nakor kept his eyes down as he had been instructed since they had first arrived in the Dasati realm. He glanced up occasionally to make sure he didn't lose track of his 'masters', Martuch and Hirea. Also, he made careful note of how this part of the Great Palace was laid out. The structure was ma.s.sive. In a city on a scale that dwarfed any human construction he had seen, this palace was the crowning achievement in excess. It had taken the three companions less than an hour to reach the entrance from where they had hidden in the Grove of Delmat-Ama, but from there it had been almost a half day's ride along the streets that were within the precincts of the palace, and so far they had reached only the outer warrens. Sundown was less than an hour away. As for as they were able, the two Dasati warriors gave Nakor a narrative about this monstrous construction.

The Great Palace, home of the ruler of the Dasati Empire, occupied more s.p.a.ce than the entire city of Kentosani on the Tsurani home world of Kelewan, and that city contained over a million people within its walls. More than two million Dasati lived within the palace precincts, five million in the central capital city. Nakor realized that the estimates of how many Deathknights the TeKarana could order into the field to invade the first realm was vastly understated. Macros had said two million Deathknights, but Nakor was convinced he was not thinking of the Dark One stripping every Dasati warrior from The Twelve Words and unleashing them... Something wasn't right. Once they established a bridgehead into the first realm, either on Kelewan or Midkemia or some other world, vast numbers of worlds would be in peril. But even for this G.o.d, that was a brutish and simple plan.

The wily gambler weighed every piece of evidence that he could discern, either through direct observation or from what others had said, either to him or what he had overheard when they didn't realize he was listening. He now came to an inescapable conclusion: the Dasati could not be defeated by the armies of every nation on Midkemia and Kelewan combined. At best they could be delayed. And at worst, they would sweep aside all opposition as if they were fighting children with play weapons.

Nakor resolved that whatever Pug found out about the history of this world, whatever revelations were discovered when he found the leaders of the Bloodwitch Sisterhood, no matter what the true nature of Macros and he had serious doubts he was as he seemed to be whatever any of them discovered, there was going to be but one solution to the coming crisis: the destruction of the Dark G.o.d.

As he considered this conclusion, Nakor weighed all the Dark One's actions in the past and something began to emerge, a sense of the true purpose behind the apparent mindless killing and destruction. There was a plan at work, a pattern of things unfolding, and he was tantalized by almost understanding what it was.

The deeper into the palace they travelled the more certain Nakor became that something profoundly evil existed at the heart of this society. Their art what there was of it was nothing more than a twisted celebration of their dark faith. He had been struck since entering the second realm that he had seen nothing that resembled decoration or art, except on the Dasati themselves. They had some expression of beauty once you adjusted to their appearances, they were a very handsome race he decided but there were no paintings or tapestries hanging on walls, no variation in colour in buildings or signs. Some of this he was convinced was due to them having a very different colour sense to humans they could see below red and beyond violet, like certain creatures in the first realm, and they could see heat, which made them lethally dangerous fighters at night.

But it wasn't until they were inside the palace that Nakor saw anything like fine art, and here it was in the form of ghastly murals, showing murder, torture, execution and slaughter in praise of the Dark G.o.d. If there was a narrative aspect to the murals, Nakor couldn't discern it, but he did intuit that this particular section had to do with some grand conquest in ages past.

At several points along their march, as Nakor followed Martuch and Hirea, he saw what he took to be an aspect of the Dark G.o.d himself. He seemed to be shown as a shadowy presence, without features or costume. Given the vividness of the rest of the subjects in the mural, Nakor found this odd. The warriors were depicted with a stylized accuracy, heads larger than life, so as to show their ancient headgear, each with its unique style, since replaced by the badges worn on the chest-plate. The swords were different too, as were the battle flags and banners. The victims were shown piled like cordwood, after being sacrificed to His Darkness.

Other murals showed long lines of prisoners being marched towards a vast pit and cast down into it, more sacrifices for the Dark One. As they approached their destination, Nakor saw the themes of the murals turning to a more martial focus, the themes being repeated of powerful warriors in service to the Dark One, led by the TeKarana and his Karanas in triumph over a variety of alien species.

There was nothing merely triumphant in this, thought Nakor. He had visited many worlds since meeting Pug, and nearly every civilization on Midkemia, and had encountered other martial societies, even those bellicose by nature, but nowhere did he see suffering and pain celebrated as he did here. It was as Kaspar had related to them when discussing his vision at the Pavilion of the G.o.ds, when first shown the Dasati by Kalkin, also known as Ban-ath, the G.o.d of Thieves. These people thought pain was amusing, and suffering funny. Never, from his perspective, had Nakor encountered a more twisted view of life and death.

No, he amended to himself as they reached their destination. There was a common theme. All life was suffering leading to death, and the only question was whether you were to suffer or to cause suffering. Then at the doorway that led into the Hall of Warriors, he saw one anomalous image. A Lesser, dressed as a healer, down in one corner, offering a cup of water to a suffering victim. It was odd, almost an afterthought, yet somehow significant, thought the little gambler.

As he hurried not to fall behind, one other detail caught his eye. A tiny glyph below the figure of the Lesser, almost unnoticeable if one was not examining the tableau carefully, and for a moment it made him almost stop in his tracks. It was a symbol that by any rational measure should not have existed in this universe, let alone be adorning this wall. Nakor pushed aside his astonishment, realizing that any break from the character of his adopted role could quickly end his life.

The hall they entered was large and functional, without a single decoration on any wall. Ma.s.sive grey-black stones scintillated with the energies that had grown almost commonplace to Nakor, though he still had trouble finding the words to describe what he was seeing. A series of benches were arrayed in rows across the floor and a dozen young men sat waiting to be called. Around them were warriors, fathers, teachers, brothers-in-arms, all bidding their young warriors good fortune and urging them to bring honour to the houses and societies that had sp.a.w.ned them. There was nothing Nakor would call regret on any face, but rather uniform pride in one of their own being selected to serve the TeKarana.

Bek sat alone on a bench near the far wall, isolated enough that a short conversation would not be overheard. Nakor glanced around the room and noticed that a few of the young warriors recruited to the TeKarana's service were attended by Lessers. 'They can take a servant?' asked Nakor.