Kingdoms of the Night (The Far Kingdoms) (40 page)

“The Kingdoms of the Night, Your Majesty,” Janela said, refreshing her memory.

“Yes, that’s it. Kingdoms Of The Night, indeed! What drama! What silliness! Must have been a man that called it that.” Janela nodded and smiled that, yes, this was so. The Queen continued. “I know the tale well. We tell it to our children to ease winter’s drear. It is a myth of never-ending sunlight and warm breezes that the people of Tyrenia enjoy the year round, thanks to wizards who are wise as they are kind. And it is also said that the city sits atop a glorious mountain with emerald spires glittering in the sun.”

“That is the same story we have heard,” Janela acknowledged. “But in our land it’s also said the city is besieged by dark forces that grow stronger by the year, and if that city falls, those evil forces will engulf us all.”

“Yes, yes,” the Queen chortled. “We speak of the same place. For all I know there really was such a city long ago. But I strongly doubt it still exists.”

She waved a royal arm, taking in her thatched palace — and beyond. “We have evidence enough of the Old Ones all about us,” she said. “Ruins of the ancients in such plenitude it is no wonder our imaginations are fired. But I must tell you that we — the People Of The Lake — have dwelt here amongst those symbols of the Old Ones’ former greatness longer than any other. We have found the wrecks of their mighty ships that once plied these waters. We have dredged up their weapons in our nets. We have even come across bits of their magical knowledge that we have incorporated into our own.

“But I tell you this, little sister. The Old Ones — whoever was their enemy — were destroyed. Their glory is a thing of the distant past and who is to say that it’s a pity? We made a place here. And we live well. It is our time, now. Theirs is past. Let us all praise the goddess and take pleasure in that simple fact.”

“You are very wise, O Queen,” Janela said, “so I question your thinking only with the greatest of reluctance. However, may I ask you this: Is all really that well in your kingdom? Have any new difficulties arisen — difficulties that might have been caused by black magic?”

Queen Badryia’s brow furrowed. She was not used to having her word questioned. But I could see something else in those imperious eyes: a small, but growing light of awareness.

She said, very slowly: “Yes. There have been things happening of late that puzzle me.”

“Such as the wizard with the great horn,” Janela said, “whose music casts such a powerful spell that people willingly scramble to their deaths?”

The Queen suddenly seemed furious. “Azbaas,” she hissed. Her guards clasped the hilts of their long knives, as if waiting for her to order our throats slit. Then she said: “How do you know of King Azbaas?”

“One of our hunting parties encountered him,” Janela said, quite calm. “Fortunately they were not seen and equally as fortunately, the protective spell I’d cast shielded them from the affects of the horn.”

Badryia nodded, soothed — if only slightly. “As I observed before, little sister,” she said, “you are a very lucky woman. You would not have liked to have fallen into Azbass’ clutches.”

“He is your enemy, Majesty?” Janela asked.

The Queen shrugged, relaxing slightly. “Enemy? Not really. Let’s just say we’ve agreed to be wary of one another.” She sipped her wine, reflecting, then said: “He is a new king. He’s ruled the Epheznuns for ten years or more. They are the largest of the savage forest tribes but until his reign they were in disarray, always squabbling amongst themselves. Azbaas was a minor shaman but with a great talent of making folk fear him. He used that talent so well that over time all his opponents were quelled, one way or another. Now he’s unified the Epheznuns so they answer only to him.”

“Using black magic I assume, Majesty?” Janela asked.

Badryia sighed. “I fear so. It’s said he’s made a bargain with demons. I don’t normally listen to such things but with Azbaas... who can say? He is the sort of king one tends to suspect of such things, even if they might not be true. We get on well enough, however. He has no power on the Lake, as I have no power in the forest. We trade at times and if any of my people stray into his realm he returns them without injury. And I do the same.”

“But you don’t trust him, Majesty?” Janela said.

“In addition to being a man and having habits even more disgusting than common with his sex,” she said, “he’s an ambitious king. I doubt if he’s satisfied merely ruling the Epheznuns. Witness his attacks on the other forest dwellers. You may have noticed that many races are represented in these parts.”

I nodded along with Janela, remembering Quatervals’ description of the vastly different types of folk they’d seen scurrying mindlessly to their fate.

“It’s said,” Badryia continued, “all of us in this region were brought here by the Old Ones from across their kingdom, and that our ancestors did their labor for them — many, perhaps, as slaves. I’ve always believed this, for how else do you account for our many differences?”

“How else indeed, Majesty?” Janela murmured.

“By any course,” she continued, “one would come to the same conclusion. However, before Azbaas we all seemed content to stay in our own lands — with the occasional blood feud erupting, of course. But they were easily settled, for this is a difficult place to live and wars sap one’s strength for doing more important things — like staving off starvation.”

“But after King Azbaas came along,” Janela said, “things were not so sanguine.”

“No,” Badryia said. “They were not.”

She peered at Janela. “Do you think, little sister, that his growing power has something to do with what you fear afflicts your own land?”

“I can’t say, Majesty,” Janela said. “But I also can’t deny the likelihood.”

“If you persist with your journey,” the Queen said, “I fear your budding theory may be tested. Because — save the way you came — there is no route away from the lake that Azbaas does not control.”

Janela and I glanced at one another. Another barrier had been set in our way.

“I suppose we’ll have to find out, Majesty,” Janela finally said. “If you will let us pass, we must seek an audience with King Azbaas and pray to the goddess he will look upon us as kindly as you have.”

The Queen snorted. “Not likely.”

She turned to Taisha to confer in whispers. After a long discussion she reached a decision.

“I must confess I don’t like what I’m about to do,” the Queen said. “Which is to use a woman who has won my respect to further my own purposes. However, I hope you understand I have my own people to think of. And that one way I can assure their future is to permit you to risk your own life and the lives of your companions.”

“Then you’ll let us continue, Majesty?” Janela said.

The Queen nodded. “Yes, you may pass. And I’ll alert my spies to keep close watch on what transpires. I can learn much more about Azbaas when I see how he treats you.” She paused to consider more, then said: “I shall also supply you with a document written in my own hand,” she said. “It will be a letter to my...” and her tone turned sarcastic — “good friend and brother monarch.” She gave us a thin smile, then went on. “I’ll tell him I owe you all a great service and that it would be a kindness to me if he greeted you warmly and assisted you any way that he can.”

“Thank you, Majesty,” Janela said for both of us. “The people of Orissa will be forever in your debt.”

The Queen shook her head. “I doubt it,” she said. “More than likely they’ll curse me for letting you fall into Azbaas’ clutches.”

She raised a royal hand to signal that our audience was at an end.

But as her guards hastened us from her presence she called out one final thing:

“If you live,” she said, “and if Tyrenia really does exist... tell the Old Ones that Queen Badryia sends her warmest greetings. And that the People Of The Lake wish them good fortune... now and forever more.”

A cold wind hastened our departure from Queen Badryia’s realm. The skies were gray, the air heavy with moisture and although it did not rain the distant mountain peaks were obscured by black storm clouds. Lightning flared in those clouds, picking out the sort of fearful images that bring prayers to the lips and reminders of past indiscretions to the soul.

It was weather for contemplation and the only talk aboard the
Ibis
was of the most necessary kind — orders from Kele and the mates or the men mumbling to one another about the tasks at hand. Even that rogue, Mithraik, seemed affected. I saw him leaning over a rail fumbling with what appeared to be some sort of amulet. His eyes were closed and he was muttering as if in prayer. I smiled, wondering what sort of gods a pirate prayed to.

The nearer we came to the region Badryia said was King Azbaas’ domain, the more the mountains hugged the shore. The weather became colder, windier and the chop of the water sorely-tested the guts of the lubbers among us. I could see that the storms in the hills were growing fiercer. The creeks leading down to the lake were swollen to the size of small rivers and in places waterfalls appeared, filling the air with the sound of their thunderous release. The lake was visibly rising — lapping near the tops of marks old floods had made on the banks.

Kele was relieved, saying it made it unlikely that we’d have to return to our labors in the mud.

Janela, however, was not so sanguine. “It will make it easier for Cligus and Modin as well,” she said.

The same thought had been nagging me. “Do you suppose those storms have anything to do with Modin’s wizardry?” I asked.

“I have no doubts at all,” she said, “that they are Modin’s work.”

I asked her if there was anything she could do.

“I’ve already tried,” she said. “Unfortunately, his spells are so strong that to overcome them I’d have to give away our position. Instead I made spells of confusion. When he makes his magical soundings he’ll receive all sorts of conflicting information. Weak trails, showing we could be any number of places on the lake.”

I relaxed. The lake was enormous. We’d be well on our way before he ferreted us out.

But what Janela said next burst that peaceful bubble.

“One thing that troubles me,” she said, “is Modin’s powers seem to have grown stronger as each day passes. As if someone or something were aiding him. I’m not worried that he’ll outstrip
me.
To my delight I’ve grown stronger as well. But my improvement has come naturally, from constant practice and, I believe, from deeper understanding.”

“We’ve known from the beginning,” I said, trying to soothe her, “we have powerful enemies opposing us. Just as we’ve known the closer we come to our goal the more dangerous they would become. The possibility they’d be in league with Cligus and Modin has also not escaped us. Still, we’ve progressed. Quicker actually, than I had hoped. Never forget that it took Janos and I three attempts to reach Irayas. If the gods continue to favor us we’ll only need this one.”

Janela’s worried features smoothed. “Sometimes I forget who I am with,” she said. “It’s comforting to know that you’ve faced — and conquered — much worse.”

I blushed, mumbling some suitably humble nonsense. Janela placed her hand on my arm.

“Am I as much a help to you as my great-grandfather?” she asked.

“More so,” I said. “To begin with, I have no doubts about the honesty of your intentions.”

Janela squeezed my arm. “Then you trust me?”

I looked into her dark eyes. Once again I saw their resemblance to Janos’. The strength. The intelligence. The burning curiosity. What I didn’t see was that glint of madness that was both Janos’ curse and blessing. Then the faint musk of her perfume rose up and I saw perhaps more than she wanted to reveal.

She lowered her eyes, saying: “I see that you do.” She removed her hand and the moment passed.

Just before night swallowed the grayness of the day we came upon a small island, a large, wooded hill climbing steeply out of the lake. The top was bare save for an enormous tree with branches that seemed to shade the entire summit. Steps were cut into the rocky base of the island, which led to a path that curved around to the top.

Janela became excited, saying, “We need to stop here, if you please.”

When I asked her why, she said it was a magical place. “But it’s not the magic of men or demons. It has an aura of the earth — and of much peace. I have a feeling it may prove very helpful to us if we investigate.”

“We have time,” I said. “I was thinking it might be wise to stop for the night. We should reach Azbaas’ kingdom soon and I’d prefer to deal with him in the light of day.”

I issued the orders and as Kele and the other captains anchored Janela and I took a small boat and rowed to the islet. The weather had moderated, wind turning to light breeze; the cold to just a slight nip. As we tied up at the remains of an old dock a bright moon broke through to light our way.

We mounted the steps and found the path. It was rough and broken in many places but its rise was gentle so although it took nearly an hour to reach the top it was an easy climb. A spring’s runoff spilled across the path the final few feet; Janela stooped down to scoop up a handful of water to drink. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise.