The Gods of Amyrantha (27 page)

He's doing this,
Warlock realised with a stab of apprehension.
Jaxyn is calling on the Tide.
He's
the one summoning the storm.

It took Warlock a little time to puzzle out why the Tide Lord would bother to summon a storm
now,
when his intended target was standing here, safe as a mill mouse, while his immortal partner in crime was out on the lake ...

Tides! Prince Mathu was never Jaxyn's target. It's the king and queen.

With every drop of self-control he owned, Warlock stood there, unmoving, holding Prince Mathu's stockings and boots.

'You want me to behave like a Crasii?
he recalled asking Declan Hawkes the day he and Tiji had arrived in Herino. 'To
obey the orders of the immortals, even if it means killing an innocent Crasii?'

'Even if it means killing ten of them,'
Declan had replied, and then he'd sent him to the palace.

With his heart hammering, Warlock realised the test Declan Hawkes had warned him of wasn't what they'd imagined at all. The spymaster spoke about killing Crash; unimportant slaves whose death meant little in the grander scheme of things. Even his earlier suspicion that Jaxyn was on his way here to murder the prince seemed easier to deal with. At least then, had he wanted to stop it, Warlock might have been able to intervene. He was physically stronger than Jaxyn and might have been able to slow him down or somehow make enough noise that the guards might hear them.

It had all been useless and idle speculation. He was standing here now because the Cabal of the Tarot needed someone close to the immortals and somehow, Warlock had been elected.
We must find out what they're planning. That's only going to happen if we have someone in the palace who can get close enough to Jaxyn and Diala to find out

what's going on.
He was here to observe. Here specifically
not
to intervene.

But Declan Hawkes had assumed any trial by the Tide Lords to prove the loyalty of their Crash would involve their own kind. He'd not instructed Warlock to stand by and watch a Tide Lord assassinate the King and Queen of Glaeba.

Torn with indecision, the rest of the spymaster's warning was burned into Warlock's brain.
'The slightest hesitation and you're blown, my friend. The Tide Lords will know you're a Scard, and they'll kill you. Then they'll wonder why Lady Ponting sent them a Scard as a wedding present and they'll kill her. Then they'll trace your movements back to Aleki and the rest of your brethren in Hidden Valley and kill all of them, too, including your mate and your unborn pups'

Warlock jumped as lightning split the rapidly gathering darkness, followed by a sharp crack of thunder. While he'd been agonising over what he should — or shouldn't — do, Jaxyn had been busy. To his credit, Prince Mathu seemed to have gathered his wits somewhat, as the storm built up above them. He stood next to Jaxyn on the balcony, staring up at the sky which was so dark now the clouds had turned a sickly dark green.

'Tides! Look at that build-up. We have to get a message out to my father's barge and tell them to head back to shore.'

Although Jaxyn was doing nothing obvious to encourage the storm, the sky darkened as the clouds swelled and multiplied with unnatural speed. 'I would think they're doing it already,' he remarked, glancing at the prince. 'A storm like this would be hard to miss.'

At the first crack of thunder, it began to rain. By now, the storm had completely obliterated the sun. The morning, which had been so bright only a few minutes before, was full of threat, the charged air sharp with burning ozone. The rain bucketed down, not the gentle,

misty Glaeban rain they were so accustomed to — this was a torrential downpour, likely to flood the whole city within an hour, if it lasted that long. The strength of the storm terrified Warlock, but not because he was particularly frightened of thunder and lightning, but because of what it meant.

By all accounts, the Tide wasn't even close to peaking yet.

What will they be capable of when it
does
return fully?

'Cecil!' Mathu ordered, the rain washing away the last of his hangover. 'Get down to the dock. Tell the boatman I said they'd better be ready for the royal barge when it docks, or there'll be hell to pay.'

Warlock guessed as much as heard the order. The prince was shouting to be heard over the wind and rain, the lightning and its accompanying thunder making him hard to understand. Jaxyn remained on the balcony beside him, drenched to the skin, his eyes filled with elation. He was channelling the Tide; manipulating the very forces of nature, the power coursing through him like a powerful aphrodisiac. Mathu didn't notice it, wouldn't have understood what he was seeing, if he
had
noticed it.

Warlock didn't hesitate, dropping the prince's boots on the floor and rushing off to do as he was bid. He was glad of the escape. There was nothing he could do here, but at least, if he was down on the wharf, he might be able to do
something
to help.

As he pounded down the palace stairs, through the hall and out into the storm, another thought occurred to him, which spurred him on.
The king's barge is crewed by humans, but it's towed by a score of amphibious Crasii and there's an immortal on board the barge, in a position to issue orders they're compelled to obey,

Kylia wouldn't — couldn't — drown, but the king and queen were human and mortal and
they
certainly could.

The subtlety of Jaxyn's plan was breathtaking, Warlock realised, as he worked it all out in his head, the partially flooded gravel path from the palace gardens to the dock, squelching underfoot as he ran.
Send Kylia out on the barge; she who could order the Crasii around and not be harmed by any danger. Stage a dreadful accident in a freak storm. Keep Mathu — the next in line for the throne and Kylia's husband — away from the disaster, so he would survive to become the puppet King of Glaeba.

The reason for Jaxyn's frequent outings with the prince became clear now. The young prince's tardiness and subsequent absence from the barge during a family outing wouldn't raise a single eyebrow in the aftermath.

And they've done it in such a way that nobody will ever suspect the sudden and unexpected death of the King and Queen of Glaeba was anything but a tragic accident.

By the time Warlock reached the dock, he discovered any orders the crown prince might have issued regarding the king's barge were redundant. The men on the dock had seen the danger long before the hungover young prince had thought to do anything about it.

As Jaxyn had predicted, the barge was heading back to shore, being tossed about the choppy surface of the lake like a child's toy in a bathtub. The amphibians towing it toward the dock were struggling against the waves, many of which were breaking over the side of the barge, making it surge uncontrollably forward. The first surge had apparently crushed several of the Crasii nearest the hull between the hull and the wharf, who now hung limp and useless in their harnesses, hampering the efforts of their companions to control the forward momentum of the boat.

Warlock skidded to a halt as the barge and its terrified passengers were making a second attempt to dock. He couldn't see the king or queen on deck, but it was possible they'd been ordered below for their safety. He
could
hear the screams though, even over the drenching downpour, the thunder, and the panicked shouts of the stevedores on the dock trying to bring the barge home.

'They'd be better off heading back out into deeper water!' someone shouted beside him. 'And waiting until this squall has passed before they try again! Who's on board?'

Warlock turned to find a large, grey-haired man had stopped beside him, drenched to the skin as Warlock was. He knew who he was, although they'd not been formally introduced. This was Daly Bridgeman, Declan Hawkes's predecessor. The old man had returned to Herino to temporarily resume his duties for Declan who'd had to leave the city because of some family business that even Prince Mathu had not known the details of, commenting that Hawkes was always disappearing like that, and giving the spymaster barely another thought.

But here was a man who might be able to do
something,
Warlock reasoned, although he couldn't imagine what.

'The king and queen are on board, sir!' Warlock informed him, shouting to be heard. And then he added as an afterthought, 'And the crown princess!'

Before Bridgeman could answer, the barge surged forward again, this time hitting the dock, which shattered under the impact. Warlock winced as several stevedores were thrown into the water, the waves swallowing them as if they were titbits thrown into the lake for the hungry churning waters to devour. For a moment, even the thunder was almost drowned out by the crack of splintering wood. Everyone ignored the amphibious Crasii screaming as they perished, caught

between the dock and the massive weight of the barge. Warlock tried to go to their aid — nobody seemed to care what was happening to the Crasii because everyone's attention was focused on saving the king and queen — but Bridgeman's vice-like grip fastened on his arm.

'There's nothing you can do!' he yelled.

Sick with frustration and knowing the old spymaster was right, Warlock turned to look up at the palace behind them, at the balcony where he could just make out the lone figure of Jaxyn standing there in the torrential rain, calmly watching the disaster with the king's barge unfold. There was no sign of Prince Mathu. Perhaps he was already on his way down. After all, his wife and both his parents were on that barge.

Another loud splintering sound caught Warlock's attention over the sound of dying amphibians. The waves had thrown the barge into the shore again, killing more Crasii, and this time, breaching the hull.

'We have to do
something!'
Warlock screamed at Daly Bridgeman, trying to shake free of the old man's grasp. 'He's killing them!'

'Which is why we need you here!' the old man replied. And then he pointed to the balcony — to Jaxyn — with that one gesture letting Warlock know that, like Declan Hawkes, he was much more than just the King's Spymaster. 'If the king doesn't survive this, then we're in big trouble, Cecil, and the Cabal is going to need you! Now more than ever!'

The old man's cold pragmatism was too much for Warlock. He tore himself free of Daly Bridgeman's grip and ran toward the shattered dock to help pull the wounded from the water. The rain kept on relentlessly. By now the desperate rescuers on shore had been joined by Prince Mathu and a score of palace guards who'd followed the prince down to see if they could lend their aid.

There was little the rescuers could do, however, except drag the occasional body from the lake and try to avoid the massive barge hurtling itself, time and again, against the shattered dock.

By the time the storm blew itself out several hours later, thirty-seven bodies lay on the grassy shore of the Lower Oran, among them, King Enteny and Queen Inala. Seven other crewmembers — two human and five amphibious Crasii — and the Crown Princess Kylia were missing.

CHAPTER 26

'To kill an immortal you have to attack the problem at the source,' Lukys informed Cayal.

The younger man looked across the dune at the Tide Lord with a puzzled expression. They'd come out here into the desert where they weren't likely to be disturbed. The sun was nearing its zenith and the sand stretched out before them like an endless golden sea. Sitting on the crest of the dune, Cayal tried to remember what this place had been like before he'd robbed it of its sea, but it proved too difficult. Or perhaps too uncomfortable.

He gave up, turning his attention to Lukys who sat beside him on the sand. 'What are you talking about?'

'I mean, the reason we can't be killed is because, down to the tiniest pore in our magically altered bodies, we're designed to heal. That's all immortality is, you know. Our bodies will repair themselves endlessly, and if they can't, they'll just wait until the environment around our body is more conducive to healing and repair itself, then.'

'Hence the reason Kentravyon has stayed frozen all this time,' Cayal concluded, as he grasped what Lukys was telling him. He wasn't sure he cared, but long experience had taught him that when Lukys was in a lecturing mood, it was foolish not to pay attention.

'Exactly,' the older man agreed, obviously pleased his student was being suitably conscientious. 'Kentravyon's not dead, but because his body is frozen, it can't heal itself, either.'

'And if we thawed him out?'

Lukys shrugged. 'Hour or two later, he'd be fine, I suppose.' Lukys smiled. 'Rather pissed off, I suspect, but physically as well as anybody else.'

Cayal nodded in agreement. He'd always suspected as much. 'Let's not thaw him out then, eh?'

'Wasn't planning to,' Lukys assured him. 'Homicidal maniacs are far too much trouble.'

'Do you remember where we stashed him?'

'In Jelidia, I think.'

'I mean,
specifically
where we stashed him,' Cayal amended with a thin smile.

Lukys shrugged, his gaze fixed on the shimmering horizon. 'Not really.'