Hero in the Shadows (35 page)

Within the hall a trumpet sounded, and all conversation ceased. Lord Aric and Eldicar Manushan appeared at the north gallery rail above the throng.

“My dear friends,” said Aric. “Now comes a moment you have all anticipated with great relish, as indeed have I. Our friend Eldicar Manushan will entertain you with wonders beyond description.”

Thunderous applause broke out, and the magicker raised his hands.

With all the doors closed, the temperature in the great room began to rise. As he had at Waylander’s palace, the magicker created small swirling globes of white mist, which floated and danced above the spectators, cooling the air and bringing applause.

A huge, black-maned lion appeared in the center of the hall and rushed toward the revelers. Several screams sounded, followed by a rush of relieved laughter as the lion became a flock of small blue songbirds, which rose up toward the rafters. The audience clapped wildly. The birds circled the hall, then gathered together, merging into the form of a small, flying dragon with golden scales and a long snout with flaring nostrils. It swooped upon the crowd, sending out a roaring blaze of fire that engulfed the spectators by the western wall. Once more screams were followed by laughter and applause as the victims saw that not a single scorch had blemished the beauty of their satin robes and silken jackets.

On the dais Duke Elphons clapped politely, then reached out and took the hand of his wife, Aldania, sitting beside him. A tall, slim man to the duke’s left leaned in to his lord and whispered something. Elphons smiled and nodded.

At that moment Eldicar Manushan’s voice boomed out. “Dear friends, I thank you for your gracious applause and now offer a climax to the evening’s entertainment that I am sure will make what has gone before seem trivial in the extreme.”

Dark plumes of smoke began to form in the center of the hall, twisting and snaking, braiding together like copulating serpents. The braid broke in a dozen places, and huge dark hounds leapt out, snarling, their massive fangs dripping venom. The last of the smoke floated close to the seats of the duke and his lady. It rose up before them, forming a dark doorway through which stepped a swordsman. He wore an ornate helm created from layered strips of black metal and a black silk ankle-length tunic split at the waist. He carried two swords, long and curved, the blades so dark that they seemed to have been carved from the night sky. A third sword, scabbarded, was thrust into the black silk sash around his waist.

Stepping forward, he bowed to the duke, then flung one of his swords into the air. The second followed it. Swiftly he drew the third, and this, too, he sent spinning into the air, just as the first blade returned to his hand. He began to leap and twirl while juggling the blades. Meanwhile the twelve black hounds moved stealthily toward the spectators.

Faster and faster the swordsman spun the blades.

What happened next was so swift that few registered the act. The swordsman’s hand flicked out. One of the swords flew straight into the chest of Lord Ruall. Instantly the second lanced through the throat of Elphons, duke of Kydor. The third plunged through the heart of Lady Aldania.

For a moment only there was silence in the hall.

Then the first of the hounds leapt, its great fangs ripping out the throat of a reveler.

“Enjoy a taste of true magic!” bellowed Lord Aric.

More smoke billowed, and a score of
Kraloth
rushed from it. The crowd panicked and tried to beat its way through the barred doors. Again the smoke came. Now there were some fifty demonic hounds.

They rushed into the panicking crowd, their long fangs ripping and tearing at the silk- and satin-clad nobles. Aric watched from the gallery, his eyes gleaming. It was incredible.
He saw one young man run across the hall and try to jump to the stair rail. A
Kraloth
leapt at him, jaws closing on the man’s leg. The noble clung desperately to the rail. The
Kraloth
fell back to the hall floor, taking the lower part of the man’s leg with him. Aric tapped Lord Panagyn on the shoulder, pointing out the scene. Blood gouting from the severed limb, the noble had almost managed to haul himself onto the stairs. Aric gestured to the bodyguard Gaspir, who was standing close by. The man ran along the gallery and down the stairs. Just as the noble believed he had reached safety, Gaspir came alongside. The young man reached out to Gaspir, seeking help. The black-bearded bodyguard grabbed him, tipping him back into the hall. As his body struck the floor, a
Kraloth
leapt upon him, ripping away his face.

All across the hall there were similar scenes. Aric gloried in them. He swung to make a comment to Eldicar Manushan and saw that the magicker had withdrawn from the gallery rail and was sitting on a bench with his page. He seemed lost in thought.

Aric stared down at the dead duke. His one complaint was that the man had died too swiftly. Pompous bastard! He should have been made to watch all his followers scream and die.

At that moment Aric saw movement on the east gallery. The youth Niallad had emerged from his room and was standing at the rail, staring in horror at the bloodletting below.

Aric looked around for Gaspir. The bodyguard was standing with one of Panagyn’s men. They, too, had seen the boy. Gaspir glanced toward Aric for confirmation. Aric nodded. Gaspir drew his dagger.

Niall’s mind reeled at the sights before him. The sound of screaming filled his ears. The hall was awash with blood and corpses. A severed arm was draped over one of the food tables, dripping gore onto bone-white plates. Huge black hounds were
leaping on the terrified survivors. Niall saw a man hammering at one of the doors, shouting to be let out. A hound leapt upon his back, massive teeth crunching down on the man’s skull.

Niall gazed down and saw his parents, slain where they sat. A black-garbed swordsman approached his father’s body, reached out, then pulled a sword from the body. The corpse of Duke Elphons toppled sideways.

“Murderer!” screamed Niall. The warrior looked up, then transferred his gaze to Eldicar Manushan, who was now leaning on the north gallery banister rail, watching the carnage below. Beside him stood Lord Aric and Lord Panagyn.

Niall could not at that moment comprehend why those men were standing idly by. He felt giddy and sick and began to lose all sense of reality. Then he saw Gaspir and another man moving toward him.

“They have killed my father, Gaspir,” he said.

“They have killed you, too,” said his bodyguard.

Niall saw the knives in their hands. He backed away into his room. His legs were trembling. All his young life he had feared such a moment as this, and now it was upon him. Curiously, the terror faded away, replaced by cold anger. His limbs ceased to tremble, and he ran to his bed, where he had discarded his dagger belt. His fingers curled around the carved ebony hilt, pulling the weapon clear. Then he swung to face the men.

“I thought you were my friend, Gaspir,” he said, and felt a surge of pride that there was no fear in his voice.

“I
was
your friend,” said Gaspir, “but I serve Lord Aric. I will kill you swiftly, boy. I’ll not throw you to the beasts.”

Gaspir stepped closer. The other man edged away to the right.

“Why are you doing this?” asked Niall.

“There’s little point in such a question,” said the Gray Man, stepping through the balcony doorway. “You might just as
well ask a rat why it spreads disease. It does it because it is a rat. It knows no other way.”

The two assassins hesitated. Gaspir glanced at the Gray Man, who was standing unarmed, his thumbs resting in his belt. “Kill the boy,” he ordered the second man, then advanced on the Gray Man. His intended victim did not back away. His right hand moved to his ornate belt buckle. In that fraction of a heartbeat Gaspir saw the arrowhead-shaped center of the buckle slide clear. The Gray Man’s hand flicked out. Blinding white light exploded in Gaspir’s right eye socket, lancing fire through his skull. He fell back.

Niall saw the Gray Man step in swiftly, grab Gaspir’s knife arm, and twist it savagely. The long blade fell clear. The Gray Man caught the falling blade by the hilt and flipped it. His arm rose and fell. There was a grunt from Niall’s left. The second assassin staggered as Gaspir’s blade lodged in his neck. Even so, he raised his own knife and lunged at Niall. The youth sidestepped and, without thinking, slammed his own dagger through the man’s chest, piercing the heart. He dropped without a sound.

Gaspir was on his knees groaning, one hand over the bleeding wound in his eye. The Gray Man slapped his hand away and tore the throwing knife clear. Gaspir gave a cry of pain and fell back. The Gray Man coolly sliced his blade across Gaspir’s throat. Ignoring the dying man, who continued to writhe on the floor, he walked across to Niall.

“My parents are dead,” said Niall.

“I know,” said the Gray Man, moving past Niall and making for the door. Gently he pushed it shut. He swung back to Niall.

“Breathe slowly,” he said, “and look into my eyes.”

Niall did so.

“Now listen to me. If you are going to survive, you must understand your position. You are no longer the son of the mightiest man in the realm. You are, from this moment, an
outlaw. They will hunt you and try to kill you. You are a man alone. You must learn to think like one. Now strap on that dagger belt and follow me.”

Lord Shastar of House Bakard, his shirt torn away, blood seeping from the claw marks on his naked back, sat huddled against the western wall, watching the black hounds ripping flesh from the bodies, some of which were still living.

Shastar sat very still, aware that the slightest movement could alert the creatures to his presence. Across from him he could see the bodies of the duke and his wife, with the dead Ruall lying beside them.

The black-garbed warrior who had killed them was standing silently, arms folded across his chest.

A massive hound padded across to where Shastar sat. He did not move. The beast’s nostrils flared, its huge head so close to Shastar’s that he could smell the beast’s fetid breath. Shastar closed his eyes, waiting for the fangs to rip away at him. Just then a dying woman close by let out a groan. The hound leapt upon her, and Shastar heard the sound of crunching bones.

Voices sounded close by. Opening his eyes, he saw the magicker Eldicar Manushan strolling among the corpses. As he reached each hound, he lightly touched it. With each touch one of the creatures disappeared, until at last the hall was eerily silent.

“Gods, what a mess,” he heard someone say. Shastar glanced to his right to see Lord Aric picking his way across the marble floor, careful to avoid the pools of blood and severed limbs. Shastar watched as if in a dream. He could hardly believe this was happening. How could a cultured man like Aric have been responsible for such a massacre? He had known Aric for years. They had hunted together, discussed art and poetry. There had been no indication of the monster dwelling within him.

Shastar watched as the magicker walked around the hall, staring down at the bodies. He saw him reach the east gallery stairs. Aric moved across to the body of Duke Elphons, dragging it from the ornate high-backed chair. The lord of House Kilraith then tore the cape from the duke’s shoulders and wiped blood from the chair before sitting down and surveying the hall.

Eldicar Manushan joined him. “There is no sign of the Gray Man,” he said. “What? He must be here.”

At that moment a shadow fell across Shastar. He looked up to see the black-garbed warrior who had killed the duke looming over him. The man’s features were Chiatze, though his eyes were golden. He leaned in close. Shastar saw that his pupils were elongated like those of a cat.

“This one lives,” said the warrior. Reaching down, he grabbed Shastar by the arm and hauled him to his feet. The strength in the man’s grip surprised Shastar. The warrior was slim and not tall, yet the heavyset lord of House Bakard was dragged upright in an instant.

“Well, well,” said Eldicar Manushan, striding forward, “I never cease to be surprised by the vagaries of war.” He looked into Shastar’s face. “Have you any idea of the odds against surviving an attack by so many
Kraloth
? Millions to one.” Stepping in close, he looked at the wounds on Shastar’s back. “Hardly a scratch, though the wounds will still be fatal if left untreated.”

“Why have you done this?” asked Shastar.

“I can assure you it wasn’t for pleasure,” said Eldicar Manushan. “I take no joy in such enterprises. But you see, there are only two ways to deal with potential enemies: make them allies or kill them. I just did not have the time to make so many alliances. However, since you have so luckily escaped death, I feel obliged to give you the opportunity to serve my
cause. I can heal your wounds, give you back your youth, and promise you centuries of life.”

“We don’t need him!” shouted Aric.

“I say who we need, mortal,” hissed Eldicar Manushan. “What say you, Lord Shastar?”

Shastar stood silently for a moment. “If an alliance with you means joining forces with a worm like Aric, I’ll have to decline.”

“You really should reconsider,” Eldicar said gently. “Death is terribly final.”

Shastar smiled, then lunged at the magicker. His right hand curled around Eldicar Manushan’s dagger, dragging it from its sheath and ramming the blade into the magicker’s chest. Eldicar Manushan staggered back and then righted himself. Taking hold of the hilt, he slowly pulled the weapon clear. Blood dripped from the blade. Eldicar Manushan held the dagger out before him and released it. Instead of falling to the floor, it hovered in the air. “That really hurt,” he said, aggrieved. “But I understand your anger. Rest in peace.”

The blade spun and swept into Shastar’s chest, slipping between the ribs and plunging into his heart.

Shastar grunted and then fell to his knees. He, too, tried to pull the dagger clear, but then pitched facefirst to the floor.

“Such a shame,” said the magicker. “I liked the man. He had honor and courage. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, the Gray Man.” He glanced up at the east gallery. “Your men are taking rather a long time to complete a simple task, Aric.”