The Seer King: Book One of the Seer King Trilogy (21 page)

I was beginning to hope we’d accomplish our task and escape unseen when a shout echoed through the stone chamber. A half-dressed man stood on a balcony halfway to the roof of the room, crying a warning.

Curti’s bowstring twanged, but the shot missed, clattering against stone. Another arrow went after it, truer than the first, taking the man in the stomach. He fell slowly forward, off the rocky ledge, screaming as he pinwheeled down.

The screams woke the sleepers, and the befuddled ones stumbled to their feet.

The last of the dolls went into packs, the packs were shouldered, and we ran for the exit. There was as yet no opposition, other than one or two of the white-clad Tovieti who stumbled into our path and were knocked flying for their pains.

Then
Jask
Irshad appeared.

He stood on a balcony about thirty feet above the cave floor. He saw us, and screamed in rage. As his shout rang through the chamber, he grew, until he was nearly fifty feet tall, and stepped easily from the balcony to the floor.

“Numantians! The False Seer Tenedos! Now you shall perish, interlopers,
Ph’rëng!
How dare you! How dare you!”

He picked up a pebble, and cast it at Tenedos. It grew into a mighty boulder, coming directly at the seer. Tenedos spread his hands, chanting, and the boulder was struck aside. It smashed down into Tovieti, and red spurted across white robes.

Tenedos grabbed a spear from one of my soldiers, tapped it against a nearby stalagmite. I could hear bits of his spell over the din:

“… change … change now …

Free yourselves

Free …

Like a dart, like …

Strike now

Strike hard

You are …”

He tossed the spear at Irshad gently, and as he did the stalagmites around the
jask
snapped off and smashed through the air at him, like hard-thrown javelins. Irshad was crying a counterspell, shrinking to his normal size as he did, and a curtain of colors rose around him, and the mineral spears shattered as they struck it.

Irshad began a spell of his own, and other
jasks
ran into the chamber, some with wands, some with relics, and their chanting and cries added to the din.

While magic fought magic, I saw something I might do.

“Lancers,” I cried. “Follow me!” I charged forward, and my men came out of their trance. Tovieti rose against us, and we cut our way on, heading for Irshad and the other magicians.

Irshad’s spell was building. I heard the roaring swell, the sound a wind makes as it becomes a cyclone, growing louder and louder.

Tovieti guards, still buckling themselves into their armor, rushed forward, blocking our attack on the wizards. At their head was a banner with a device I could not make out, and beside the standard-bearer charged a huge man I instantly recognized, having spent enough time around his elder brother.

Chamisso Fergana was armed with exactly the weapon I’d imagined Achim Fergana would prefer: a single-headed beaked ax. He saw me — I suppose
Jask
Irshad’s magic had told him who I was — and cried a challenge, one I was glad to meet.

Legate Baner dashed in front of me, shouting some sort of a war cry. He cut wildly at Fergana, leaving himself open, and Fergana ducked Baner’s stroke, hooked Baner in the shoulder with the ax’s beak, and yanked the screaming boy toward him. As Baner stumbled forward, Fergana jerked his ax free and sent it crashing into the back of the legate’s head.

Sergeant Vien was there, lunging, missing, and Fergana blocked him hard with a hip and sent the foot soldier stumbling away, and then there was nothing but the two of us.

Fergana held his ax ready in front of him, left hand just below the axhead at shoulder height, right on the haft. He danced back and forth, looking for an opening. I struck for his face, and his ax flashed, almost taking me. I cursed myself for trying for an easy strike, ducked as he cut at me, and struck for his leg, missing again.

We went back on guard, moving, moving. I moved to his weak side, and he turned as I did. I vaguely was aware of Karjan and another Lancer guarding my flanks.

The ax came at me once more, and I jumped back, landing on some gravel. I almost slipped and went down; Fergana shouted victory and came in for the kill. I knelt, grabbed a handful of gravel, and cast it full into his face, jumping aside as his ax came down. Before he could recover, I struck, this time as I’d been taught, not for the vital parts, but to cripple to make the killing easy.

My slash hit his ax handle about halfway up, slicing wood, and then Fergana’s fingers. His shout was a roar, and he dropped his ax, but his unwounded hand reached for a long dagger at his side.

But there was no time left for the rebel leader, and my full lunge took him in the throat, the point of my sword coming out the back of his neck. As he went down I pulled my sword free, recovered, saw Sergeant Vien belabored, and killed his opponent. Then I faced the enemy standard-bearer, trying to defend himself with a short sword. I parried once, again, cut his legs from under him, and gave him the deathstroke as he fell. Chamisso Fergana’s banner fell, landing a few feet from its dead lord. Troop Guide Bikaner had the standard then, waving it triumphantly in victory.

Over the battle din, I heard the keen as
Jask
Irshad saw his lord’s death, and his concentration broke and the wind-song died. Then, over all, the Seer Tenedos’s voice boomed:

“I have you

I have you

Your force is mine.

Your strength is mine.”

Tenedos stood with his arms stretched out, his fingers closing into fists, as if he were squeezing something invisible. Tenedos’s voice came again:

“Your blood

Courses through my hands.

I hold your heart

You are mine

You are mine.

Take your death.

Take the gift.

Take your death.”

Jask
Irshad screeched in agony, clutched at his chest, then fell. He writhed briefly, then lay still.

The Tovieti screamed with him, both their leaders down in death, screamed in panic and desperate need, and louder than the fear came their chant: “Thak! Thak! Thak!”

From somewhere their overlord heard them.

Thak appeared, atop the drumlike altar.

I do not know what strange world Thak came from, nor, really, what he was. Perhaps he came from deep inside our own world, in awful caverns where metal flowed like water and all life was like him. I suppose he was some sort of demon, but one whose form was not flesh nor blood. He was about sixty feet tall, roughly manlike in shape, but crudely formed, his limbs of equal proportion, his cylindrical head sitting squarely atop his torso. Faceted like a jewel, his body sent out blinding shards of light.

The screams from the Tovieti became louder, and I knew they feared their god or demon as much as they worshiped him.

Thak saw us, although there were no eyes or other features to his head, and stepped down from the altar toward us. His joints screeched like ungreased metal as he came, and his thick, stubby fingers reached for us.

As he came, a high-shrill ringing began, a ringing that drove against my eardrums like invisible nails.

Tenedos was digging in his pouch, and he brought out a large, clear gem, cut like a cylinder with the facets coming to sharp points at either end.

I couldn’t hear his spell over the whine, but he cast the gem out, and it landed on one end about twenty feet away. Thak was no more than thirty feet beyond. The gem began spinning, as if Tenedos had whipped a top into motion.

As it spun, it, too, sent flashes of light striking into all corners of the cave, and a low hum started, a hum that quickly rivaled the whine in volume.

“Come on,” Tenedos shouted. “I don’t know how long that will hold him.”

Two men started to run, and both Bikaner’s and Vien’s bellows caught and held them, and their discipline came back.

At the trot, we went out of the cavern, withdrawing in good order, not retreating. Later I’d have time to marvel at how a handful of men had been able to strike and paralyze many times their number, with no more than boldness, surprise, and some sorcery to aid them — a device I was able to use time and again in the service of Emperor Tenedos.

One or two of the Tovieti, dazed by all that had happened in the last few minutes, tried to stop us, but were easy to knock aside or slay — they offered no real resistance.

I chanced one final look at the chamber’s exit, and saw Thak gather himself and stumble forward, like a man driving into a hard wind, step by step toward Tenedos’s gem.

I realized I was the last Numantian in the chamber and hurried on to catch up to my men.

It was a gray, dismal morning, and I delighted in it. We lost three in that cave, counting Legate Baner. Four others were wounded, but were being supported along by their fellows.

In battle order, we went down that trail, now having no reason for concealment, and there were none to oppose us.

Within an hour, we’d regained our horses, lashed the packs with the precious mannequins to our saddles, ridden out of the draw to the track.

Tenedos stared back, up at the mountain and the cavern entrance. The rain had died, and there was no wind. I could hear nothing from the cavern’s mouth, neither screech nor hum.

“Did you kill him?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I was certainly lucky, providing a spell and talisman where like could strike like, although I had no idea what we would face when we entered the cavern,” Tenedos said. “Perhaps I hurt him sore. Perhaps I sent him back to where he came from.” Tenedos’s voice was most unsure. “Or perhaps not.” He gathered himself.

“Come. We have what we came for.”

We rode hard for Sayana.

T
HE
A
CHIM’S
B
ETRAYAL

We were heroes at Achim Fergana’s court. Not only had we saved the lives of the courtiers and the achim himself from some terrible rending, but we’d killed the traitorous
Jask
Irshad
and
the rebel’s most evil brother, Chamisso Fergana.

As for the demon Thak, Achim Fergana was unconcerned. With no one to guide him, even if that powerful spell the ever-brave and never-sufficiently-praised resident-general and Most Powerful Seer Laish Tenedos cast hadn’t, Thak must now be impotent and would soon return to his own dark realms. Similarly, the dreaded Tovieti, without any leaders, would fragment and disappear as if they’d never been.

Achim Fergana, sure that his rule was secure and his family would hold the throne forever, promised us anything,
anything
we wished, especially since we had returned his dolls. I’d quietly drawn Tenedos aside and wondered if this was wise. He’d shrugged and said that firstly, he doubted if any of the Kaiti would be able to use them without
Jask
Irshad’s magic, and second and more importantly, it did not matter to Numantia how the ruler of Kait held his throne, so long as the Men of the Hills killed within their own borders.

As for Achim Fergana’s rewards, unfortunately there was little the kingdom of Kait had that we wanted. Gold would have been more than acceptable, for neither Tenedos nor myself nor any of us was wealthy. But this was against the rules of the kingdom, Achim Fergana explained, most regretfully. Besides, the treasury was in a deplorable state, and all hard currencies were desperately needed for the benefit of the people. But anything else …

Tenedos attempted, once, to tell Achim Fergana that mere ratification of the pact he’d been sent into the Border States to present would be the greatest reward of all, for Kait, Numantia, and Urey. Achim Fergana smiled blandly and said he had the matter well under advisement. Even someone as artless as I knew what that portended.

No one, not Tenedos, not me, not any officer or ranker, could come up with an idea for an individual reward. Each of us could have had an estate in the country, and been murdered the instant we rode out of Sayana’s gates to visit it.

Titles were meaningless.

Food — the Kaiti diet wasn’t exactly prized by my men.

The Achim Fergana offered women or young boys, as many as each man wanted. Some of my men were licking their chops most lasciviously, planning orgies of a prehistoric nature. Here I had to step in firmly: If a woman wished to enter the compound by day,
of her own free will, and she would be asked by me,
and the man involved was off duty, what they chose to do was their business. However, the security of the compound was too important to allow strangers to pass the night. Army laws fortunately forbade enlisted men keeping slaves, so that kept another door closed.

I knew that few Kaiti women would wish to involve themselves with the hated
Ph’rëng
beyond whores or our staff spies, who of course were under orders to be accommodating, especially if they would be forced out into the streets of Sayana at nightfall.

We were left, then, with the undying gratitude of Achim Baber Fergana, a gift that would live, as Resident-General Tenedos cynically but correctly said, for at least a full week beyond its presentation.

There were some rewards — all the men who rode with me were mentioned in my dispatch back to Domina Herstal and the Lancers, and Captain Mellet did the same for his men. Some we could promote: Legate Baner would be posthumously raised to captain of the Lower Half, which might provide some consolation to his family. As I’d vowed, with Laish Tenedos’s full approval, Sergeant Yonge was commissioned legate, as were other hillmen.

As for my own men, I could hardly promote Bikaner to regimental guide, since there was but one such rank in the entire regiment of Lancers and that held by Evatt, back in Mehul. Lance Karjan refused my offer of promotion, saying, “Havin’ rank-slashes means givin’ up y’r friends an’ soul both, an’ hardly’s worth the few coins extra.” Curti was too ashamed of his having missed his first shot in the cavern to countenance reward. At least Svalbard allowed himself to be raised to lance, and grunted, I think in thanks.

Resident Tenedos insisted on writing a dispatch to Domina Herstal that was so commendatory I nearly blushed. I wondered if it would change what Captain Lanett thought, but doubted it. People of his nature never change their minds once someone’s played into that fatal flaw of theirs.